Ravens And Unicorns
by KitMay
Summary: WWII rages in the Muggle world but Tom Riddle, Hogwarts Prefect,model student, and secret Dark Wizard, finds his own way. A promise, an underground organisation…and a strange girl...there were some secrets not even Albus Dumbledore ever guessed...Tom OC.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Fanfiction, anything you recognize is not mine, although as this is a prequel of a kind, there are, of course, some characters and places that are the product of my imagination.**

**Summary: While a war rages in the Muggle world, Tom Riddle, Hogwarts prefect, model student, and secret Dark Wizard, finds his own way.**

**A promise, an underground organisation…and a very strange girl indeed……….. there were some secrets not even Albus Dumbledore **

**ever guessed. Canon-friendly prequel.Tom/OFC**

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**Ravens and Unicorns

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"**_Nothing I have seen in the world has supported _**

_**your famous pronouncement that love is more powerful **_

**_than my kind of magic."

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**Prologue

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**_I think of her, occasionally. _**

**_Not often, just occasionally, though less and less as the years go by. _**

**_I am so much older now. There is no purpose to be served by these occasional forays into the past, these self-indulgent _**

**_trips down memory lane, other than the mental exercise, or perhaps torture, of seeing if I can still remember what she looked like, what her voice sounded like. _**

**_Sometimes it is clearer than others, sometimes I wonder if she really does visit me, does she damn my wretched soul for my actions? I don't plan to ever meet her again, where she has gone, it is somewhere I never intend to go…but still…. I wonder._**

**_If they could journey back into my past, through my eyes, this is what they would see. Love? They say I don't know, but they are wrong. _**

**_This is who she was and this…..this is what I did_**

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**November, 1942.**

The corridor was dank and bleak, made more so by the fact it was the middle of November.

Outside, the snow lay flat, white on frozen ground, while the students inside Hogwarts castle wrapped up in thick cloaks and warm scarves, dreaming of Christmas and looking forward to the return of the summer sunshine even the Muggle War could not penetrate.

In his circular office, Professor Armando Dippet tapped his fingers on his desk in an uncharacteristically impatient gesture, and looked over at his Deputy with a furrowed brow.

The new student was late.

Somewhere not too far away, a girl wandered down that damp, bleak corridor, seemingly walking in circles and wondering vaguely if she would ever find her way around the place. She had arrived at the new school early this morning, but instead of the tedious assembly she'd expected, she had been summoned to see the Headmaster, one Professor Armando Dippet, in his office.

Her appearance was something some less than kind people might call chaotic. Indeed, she looked worried and dishevelled, as if she'd come a long way. Her black cloak with its silver clasp was slipping off of one shoulder and the laces on her right boot were trailing around her ankles. A crumpled, pointed hat was clutched in her left hand, and in the other she held a heavy bag, as she searched for the Professor's office.

To her relief, a tall, sandy haired boy was passing. He had stopped and looked at her and finally said:

"I suppose you're new?"

"Yes." said the girl, pausing to look him over.

"How do I get to the Headmaster's office?"

The boy stood up very straight, and she could see he wore a blue badge with a picture of an eagle, in gold, over his black robes.

"Dippet? I'll take you there myself." he said, importantly, leading the way down a small flight of steps and across a landing.

"By the way, my name's Tisker. William Tisker. Quidditch Team Captain, and expert, if I say it myself. And here's the office." He said, with a flourish.

He smiled, flashing even, very white teeth and a rather conceited expression, and thanking him, the new girl turned away to climb the spiral staircase up to Professor Dippet's office.

"Bloody funny time of year to start a new school." mused William Tisker, as he walked away.

O O O O O

After a stern monologue, watched in silence by his younger, auburn-haired deputy, and occasionally supplemented by the portraits of his predecessors that adorned the walls, Dippet had produced an old, tattered hat from a nearby shelf. He rose to his feet, taking step towards his new student.

"It is customary," proclaimed Dippet, gravely, "to have every new student sorted into their houses before the assembled school at the beginning of every new school year. However," he continued, pacing around the chair the girl was sitting on, her little finger in the corner of her mouth, looking thoughtfully at the Headmaster,

"However, since the….. _circumstances_ ( he paused) in which you join us here do not allow this, I will personally oversee your Sorting now,"

"Albus," he motioned to the auburn- haired wizard on his right hand side, "If you would."

The girl was still looking at the Headmaster with an expression of both puzzlement and awe as the Deputy Headmaster stood to her left and placed the old hat onto her head.

O O O O O

Not ten minutes later, she had said a polite farewell to the two Professors, after fervently (at least, she hoped she had sounded at least passably sincere) assuring Professor Dippet that of course she would try harder at Hogwarts, and that she would take the word of the teachers and the prefects as law….

Especially the Prefects, she grinned inwardly, thinking of the tall, handsome, dark boy she had seen walking in the grounds alone as she had arrived with her father that morning.

The boy had not seen her, but she had noticed he wore a shining silver 'P' on his dark green tie, and his black hair was neatly parted and combed to one side, as was the fashion in both Muggle and Wizarding worlds.

She'd watched him all the way up to the front steps, until she felt her father's eyes upon her, and quickly averted her gaze under his disapproving one. And when she looked back, the boy with the black hair had gone.

Hopefully though, she thought, there would be many more opportunities.

Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw, was tiny, young and jolly. Steering the girl from underneath her elbow, he pushed a small package containing the standard issue FifthYear house badges, tie and scarf into her hand, and instructed her to bend down so that he could whisper the password into her ear that would gain her entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, where she would find her common room and dormitory.

Then, with a squeaky "Good luck, my dear!" he had pressed a timetable into her other hand, and was gone.

The girl looked down at what her new Head of House had given her. Blue, like that blond boy's, not green, like the tall, handsome prefect, but never mind.

It was just as she'd thought it would be, anyway.

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	2. Part One: The Latecomer

**Disclaimer: Fanfiction...not mine...**

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Chapter One

**The Latecomer **

" _It may be over, but it won't stop there."

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I was fifteen.

Just fifteen, when it happened. When she happened. My sixteenth birthday was all of six weeks off, and I was thinking, that day, of the usual truths.

I knew that I would spend my birthday alone in my dormitory, my common room, because everyone else had gone home for their happy holidays.

I knew there would be no presents to open, save the small tokens of pity from the ignorant, well-meaning staff. Because I , Tom Riddle, had no home to go to, and my wretched birthday could not even have fallen in term time.

My birthday. New Year's Eve. Wasn't it supposed to be a time of new life, new beginnings? Perhaps to all the others, it was.

Only not for me.

My new beginning came that year, my sixteenth year, and it happened, as these things often do, I think, in the most unexpected of places.

O O O O O

Term had begun in the normal way, September the first, and for some, a tearful goodbye to their doting parents on Platform 9 ¾, and for me, blessed homecoming, for the London orphanage where I spent my summers had never felt like a home.

I had done well at school, excelling at every subject, and popular with every teacher. Well, almost every teacher.

This year I'd boarded the Hogwarts Express, proudly displaying a new Prefect's badge, and revelling in my newfound power and status.

My appointment as new prefect had not come as a great surprise, as I knew that I was one of Armando Dippet's favourite students, so it was only really a matter of coming of age.

And besides, playing the part of the model student all these years was a small price to pay for the privilege of handing out punishments to all the pathetic first years and Mudbloods that dared not to do _exactly_ as I told them.

But it was November now, and the drizzle fell against the windows of the castle as we trooped into Slughorn's dungeons for a double Potions lesson that would, as they usually did, comprise of forty percent Potions and sixty percent witty and enthralling anecdotes, told in Slughorn's trademark jovial and self-important manner, and all featuring famous ex-pupils who, of course, attributed their success _entirely_ to him.

I was leaning back in my chair, trying to conceal a yawn behind my outstretched hand.

I'd had a late night, after stealing Vittorio Zabini's precious invisibility cloak to peruse the Restricted Section at my leisure. I'd found some particularly interesting reading on a recent visit and I certainly did not want the librarian, Madam Finnelly, breathing down my neck and asking if Tom Dear was enjoying his book.

Stupid, irritating little woman. I had just begun to fantasize about using the Cruciatus curse on Madam Finnelly, when the door to the dungeons banged open.

I shall never forget that moment. It was the first time I saw her.

That moment became as etched in my mind as the burn marks were scored indelibly into the desktops of the Potions classroom. The sound of the door banging back against the stone wall of the dungeons was more than enough to snap me out of my thoughts, and I looked up sharply.

All I could see was a heavy stack of books falling down the steps of the Potions room, closely followed by a bundle of blue and silver cloth. Behind these, stood a figure in black robes, wearing no tie and with the longest hair that I had ever seen, held in a ponytail by a strange silver comb.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Professor Slughorn puff himself up, ready to take umbrage at the noisy intruder. But before he could begin, the girl in the doorway pushed her hair out of her face, and for half a second, her eyes met mine.

She looked away quickly, frowning and picking up the dropped books and her scarf in Ravenclaw's blue and silver. Professor Slughorn had pulled out a seat near his own desk, and told her to sit down. She rummaged for a moment more in her robes and pulled out a wand, flicking it at the books and sending them flying at speed to settle in a neat pile on the table where Slughorn had indicated, still looking flustered and still muttering apologies.

It was a very neat piece of spell work, though Slughorn told her to put her wand away.

I didn't know why at the time, but for some reason, I sat and watched her for the rest of the lesson. She certainly seemed to be a very strange girl.

O O O O O

_Her_ name was Laura. Laura Ames. Abraxas Malfoy's twin sister heard from her friend's friend's cousin, who slept in the bed next door. I heard her tell her brother this, though I pretended not to be listening.

I didn't speak to the new girl that first lesson, or the next, or the next one. All I knew was that she had apparently been "asked to leave" Beauxbatons Academy in France, where her father still lived, but nobody had offered a reason why. If they knew at all.

This was the excuse I gave, in my own mind, at least, for attaching myself to the young Professor Flitwick.

Having recently joined the School, he had taken over the post of Charms Master, and Head of Ravenclaw house.I was, of course, merely taking my promise to Professor Dippet seriously when I stopped by the Charms Master's office one evening, to ask him if there was any small thing I could possibly do to assist him.

The tiny Professor was more than grateful when quiet, well-behaved model prefect Tom Riddle gave up his lunch hour to help him stack up all his Student Files onto the high shelves.

I was _deeply_ involved, naturally, in his high-pitched conversation about his time spent travelling around the forests of Malaysia in search of the Horny-Skinned Goatcracker. It was most inconvenient, therefore, when Evan Rosier, one of the boys that shared my dorm, burst in, babbling some story about Peeves the poltergeist causing havoc in the Charms corridor, and the poor Professor was obliged to cut short his enthralling anecdote and attend on the scene immediately, leaving wonderful, selfless Tom Riddle to finish the job - all alone.

By the time he returned to his office, after finding that Peeves had apparently 'cleared up all the damage and fled the scene', all the files were in perfect order on the shelves, where I had left them before leaving for Professor Merrythought's Defence Against The Dark Arts class.

Well, perhaps not quite all.

Fifty points to Slytherin was certainly very nice, I reasoned, but it was not what I had come for.

O O O O O

That night, after Prefect duty patrolling the endless freezing corridors, I returned to my dormitory, and threw off my winter cloak.

Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov and Nott were all sleeping as I closed the door behind me, and swung down the heavy, forest green hangings around the unoccupied bed against the far wall.

I took off my robes, undressing until I wore nothing but my black wool school trousers.I flung myself down onto the bed, casting enough silencing charms and wards to ensure that what I was about to do would be entirely uninterrupted.

Feeling underneath my mattress, I brought out the thin blue cardboard file that said: AMES Laura Rowena Lucita

I thought it was a coincidence that she shared her middle name with the founder of her House, and I wondered whether there was a reason for it. I would find out later.

I discovered that Laura had been born just outside Cardiff, in Wales,1926, and that this event had led to her mother's death. This seemed odd, as it stated that Laura was pureblood, so her mother, like my own, had been a witch.

I frowned, but read on, learning that she lived with her father in the south of France, and had done so ever since the age of nine.

She had had three brothers, Christoph, Sion, and Reuben, all Aurors and all killed in the fight against Grindelwald and his followers.

Then, I found the letter. The letter, in fine, sloping cursive, signed by the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy. The notice of expulsion. So she had a secret...this was going to be useful. I decided there and then that, as a Prefect, it was my duty to keep a very close watch on Laura Ames.

A very close watch indeed.

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A/N : Quote from 'Goodbye My Lover' by James Blunt. 

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	3. Part Two: A Mutual Arrangement

**Disclaimer: Fanfiction...means it's not mine...**

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**Part Two**

A Mutual Arrangement

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I had to talk to her. Find some way of getting her to talk to me, if I could. Of course, I had no trouble finding various followers and sycophants, all more than willing to hang on my every word, Nott, Rosier and Dolohov were testament to that. But she was different. I had little to do with the other Houses generally, but from the first day I saw her, and she looked at me, I knew that she was definitely, indefinably, different. 

From the first week she was here, it became common knowledge that she pretty good at Quidditch, so when one of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Jonathan Chang, was badly injured and sent home, she was offered the place, and performed with gusto.

Team sports. They left me cold. It was more than a little awkward for me to feign a sudden interest in a game I detested, and had avoided playing for as long as I had been here, but I knew that it was worth it. Just to have an excuse to watch her soar and twist in the sky, showing off her new Nimbus Two Fifty, laughing as she flew upside down as a joke, her hair streaming and if I moved over a little, I could see pale skin and the small valley between her breasts. I closed my eyes, moistening my dry lips with the tip of my tongue and I could almost smell her scent, perfume and fresh sweat on clean skin, delicious.

I took to 'borrowing' Vittorio's invisibility cloak on Sunday mornings, when she would wake early, and come down to the Quidditch pitch to practice alone. Soon I, too, were setting my alarm for six thirty am, and silently slipping on Zabini's cloak, I would follow, soft-footed as a cat, to watch her, breathless as the sunrise played on her beautiful skin, and the frost on the winter ground.

It was December now, and soon Hogwarts would close for Christmas.All the other students would go home, but I would stay, alone, as I always did.

I wanted to touch her. It was distracting to say the least. The worst thing about it was that I had no idea why she interested me. She just….did. It might have been curiosity, or something else..something I'd been taught to be more ashamed of. I wasn't sure. And that was distracting too.

O O O O O

Night fell at around four, now. At six, dinner was served in the Great Hall, at ten, everyone would make a rush for the bathrooms and bed, before the cold set in proper.

Everyone, that is, except the prefects who were obliged to take turns on the night patrol, myself included.

Nobody wanted to sign up for night patrol this close to Christmas. After all, it would put paid to all the parties and get-togethers that were going on now, some legitimate, and some slightly less so.

Certainly the Mudbloods would be stocking up. The Muggles were at war again, and I doubted that I would have had much more to eat at the Orphanage than they would have in their Muggle homes.

But the Professors, of course, all knew that they could rely on Tom Riddle, dutiful, polite and firm favourite for Head Boyship, and so, with four weeks solid of night patrol ahead of me, I climbed the stairs to my dormitory on a bitterly cold Thursday night, in search of something warmer to wear.

My winter cloak lay across the end of the four-poster bed. It had been bought second hand and was a little too short, but I threw it over my shoulders, fastening the clasp around my neck, and, adding the standard Slytherin scarf in regulation silver and green, I left for my duties.

Looking out of the windows facing towards the forest, I could see a thick mist beginning to rise. I stretched out a hand, meaning to pull down the drapes, before setting off to patrol near the entrance to Ravenclaw tower. I always began my patrols there, these days.

It was in that split second that I saw the figure running across the grounds, cloak billowing in the freezing winds and dark hair streaming with a flash of silver.

As I watched, the figure looked back once, twice, and then, disappeared, running quickly across the black expanse of the lawns, and into the forbidden forest.

I turned and descended the staircase quickly, silently.

Night patrol had just become so much more interesting.

O O O O O

Even the corridors were freezing, and my breath made small, foggy clouds in front of me. Quickly, I made a cursory tour of the rest of the castle. I took out my wand and cast a spell to warm myself, the dead-cold atmosphere rolling back away from me like something tangible.

I very nearly fell asleep, for when I had completed the rushed rounds, not wanting to miss the return of the student that I had seen breaking at least a dozen school rules in one fell swoop, I settled myself behind the statue of Elrick the Bald, where I had full view of the Entrance Hall. It was almost two o'clock when I became aware, finally, of the door furthest away from me giving a low creak, and opening just enough to admit a small person.

I watched as the figure slipped quietly inside the door, the hood of the black school cloak obscuring its face. Smirking to myself, I silently withdrew my wand from inside my cloak, pointed it at my boots and cast wordlessly, something I had been able to do since my third year.

"_Silencio."_

The cloaked figure moved stealthily through the castle, and despite the spell, I found that I, too, were walking as silently as possible.

I knew that if I was caught out of my dormitory at this hour, I could probably formulate an excuse, most likely one that would leave me in a favourable light, I was good at those, but even so, I wanted to follow this errant night tripper all the way to wherever they were heading, because I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew exactly where that destination would be.

I wasn't paying attention when my boot caught against a loose stone as I followed the figure across the courtyard towards the staircase that led to the castle towers.

I cursed under my breath, but knew that the miscreant I was tailing could not possibly have heard a thing. My spell casting had always been impeccable. Indeed, it was generally accepted that Tom Riddle did not commit errors.

I looked up, then, and in a moment, I froze.

The hooded figure whirled around.

The only thing I could make out was the very tip of a light wood wand emerge from underneath the folds of the cloak, a fraction of a second before I heard the muttered incantation, a high whisper in hushed tones.

"_Noxus Impervious!_"

A sudden darkness descended, but it was like no darkness I had ever known. This darkness was thick and almost viscous, impenetrable. Then I heard the footsteps start to run.

Furious at being so easily jinxed, and wondering how in Merlin's name my presence had been detected through my own spell, I, too, crossed the courtyard at a run, following the footfalls of my quarry as they pounded across the wet grass. I knew I could gain ground easily, and I was right, being the taller by almost a foot was certainly proving to be advantageous.

Close to the foot of Ravenclaw tower, there was a small door set in the wall with steps leading to a series of circular chambers. They were, it was said, to once be used for keeping dangerous beasts to defend the castle. Now that this was no longer thought necessary, they stood empty, and it was here that I caught up with the black-cloaked figure. I could hear an urgent mutter of "_Alohomora_!" as we drew level with the door. This time the voice was clear and unmistakably female.

The door was flung open at exactly the same time as I reached out to seize her shoulders. She tried to twist away from my grip, and somehow missed her footing down the small flight of steps, falling and dragging me with her.

I landed half on top her, pulling off her hood roughly, and holding her tight.

"_Lumos_!" I muttered.

The darkness lifted, suddenly, and I found myself looking into the blanched face of a pale girl with dark brown hair and grey eyes.

O O O O O

Laura Ames was looking at me, slightly stunned from the fall. She reached out and rubbed a hand tentatively over her face. This close, I could see the snowflakes had still not melted from the walk back to the castle, and they glittered in her hair and eyelashes.

Instinctively, I put out a hand to brush them away.

I half-expected her to flinch, but she didn't. And instead of looking frightened to be caught out of bed, by a prefect, at two o' clock in the morning, she was looking at me intently, her expression….. unreadable.

"Hello, Tom." she said smiling just a little, as though the situation was a perfectly acceptable one to be found in.

An odd sensation, not entirely pleasant, shot through me, I couldn't place quite what it was about the way she was gazing at me, the way she spoke, but there was something about it that made me have to catch my breath. And the way that she said my name, with just the merest trace of accent, left over from her Beauxbatons days - 'Tom…" it was like I had heard it a million times before, yet I knew I hadn't, at least, not the way she said it.

"You're out of bed, Ames," I told her, softly, tightening my fingers just a little on her upper arm. She drew in her breath, just loud enough to hear. "And, I'm a prefect."

"I know …Tom. But, you know, I just couldn't sleep." Laura said, still with that same expression, unwavering. " Don't you…er..ever get that?"

"But is it really necessary to visit the Forbidden Forest on such occasions?" I asked her, in a low voice "I would say it was a very bad idea. With your record so….against you, don't you think, _Miss_ Ames?" I said, quietly, waiting for the reaction.

It came at once, and she looked up at me sharply, her grey eyes both knowing and full of questions.

"What do you know about my _record_?" she asked shrewdly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

I did not answer her. It gave me a thrill to see the consternation cross her face. I knew that she was trying to work out exactly what I knew about her, and how I knew it, but I certainly did not intend to reveal my hand to her just yet.

Besides, here I was, after hours, and I was lying on top of her, pinning her down, and she had made no attempt at all to wriggle out from under me. I could smell perfume,her perfume, faint, lilies of the valley, I thought, mixed with the scent of cold air, the telltale essence of the freezing snow-clad night. I could do anything to her right here and now. All I would have to do is hold her down – hard--and it would be so easy. I could feel the stirrings beginning in my stomach at the mere thought of it. I gritted my teeth, biting down on the thoughts I was having, keeping control, for now.

"You're a troublemaker,Miss Ames. Oh yes, I know all about you." I murmured, close to her ear. She flinched under me, I was enjoying the upper hand, loved making sure she knew I was in charge. It felt good, right even.

For about half a second.

And then I heard her reply.

"Of course you always play by the rules don't you, Tom? An example to us all. But tell me, Tom Riddle, where in the rules does it say that it's all right to steal your friend's Invisibility cloak to spy on girls practicing their Quidditch technique on a Sunday morning? Does Professor Dippet know about _that_?" she inquired, pleasantly.

Her words were a punch in the stomach.

How could she know?

At once, I could not look her in the eyes. I turned away, fixing my gaze on the stone floor, but then, unexpectedly, she reached out to me, touching my cheek with her hand, still freezing.

"I just know." she whispered, answering the question I had not asked.

She fiddled with the silver comb in her hair and smiled just a little bit, regarding me thoughtfully, as she continued:

"But it's quite all right, you know. I can keep **_your_** little secret if you keep mine."

I could feel her heartbeat as she leant into me.

I could hear her breathe.

I felt it as she exhaled and it played across the skin of my cheek, with her fingers…. an involuntary shiver shooting down my spine.

And then, in a movement, I was kissing her.

How I managed to keep breathing, I will never know. I had never been this close to anyone before, and neither had I wanted to be. All I could explain was that I liked the way it felt when she deepened the kiss, searching out my tongue, pulling me into her, tentatively at first, but then with increasing confidence.

I liked the way it felt when she began to stroke my back, loosening my tie urgently and throwing it somewhere past my left elbow. I couldn't have cared less at that moment, I just wanted to stay here forever, but at the same time, run far away.

Then she pulled away as suddenly as it had begun. I dropped my wand and the light went out.

I grabbed at the darkness, wanting to pin her up against the wall and force her to finish what she had started, but the next time she spoke, it came from further up the stairs.

"Tom," she called, softly.

"What are you doing?" I asked, in consternation.

"You're a prefect, Tom," she said. "Goodnight."

And then she was gone.

I could only listen as the sound of her footsteps on stone faded away, and feeling around with my fingers on the cold floor, I could not find my Slytherin tie anywhere.

O O O O O

Outside, the enchanted darkness had lifted, but the tall, mahogany clock in the common room had struck three before I descended the staircase to dormitory 5a.

Nott, whose bed was closest to the door, stirred as I entered. He opened his mouth, about to speak, but before he could grunt an enquiry, I had drawn my wand with a vicious look and a warning, issued through clenched teeth:

"Shut. Up."

His eyes widened momentarily, but he obeyed, turning back over as I slipped into bed.

It took me a long time to go to sleep, though.

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	4. Part Three: I Want

**Disclaimer: Humble fanfic in worship of JK. Long may she reign.

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Part Three

**I Want..

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Laura didn't look at me as I walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, despite the fact that less than five hours ago she had melted into my arms, sharing my first kiss with anyone.

I wondered, with an unwonted stab of jealousy, if it had been hers.

I must've had dark circles under my eyes, and the only person who _was_ looking at me, from the other side of the Slytherin table, was Evan Rosier, who was intently observing my glances toward the Ravenclaws with a curious expression, as if he was finally putting two and two together.

Rosier caught my eye and grinned foolishly, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggeratedly salacious manner, as he too, looked over at where Laura Ames was deep in conversation with the sandy blond Ravenclaw boy sitting on her left. I recognized him as William Tisker, the Seventh year that captained the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

Unbidden, a horrible, tight feeling came over my chest. I wanted to stand up, drawing my wand on the idiotic Tisker, casting the Cruciatus curse until he was less than an inch within his pathetic miserable, Mudblood life. I could probably do it, too, studying in private was my favourite hobby. I doubted it was among Tisker's.

I shoved my breakfast aside, catching sight of Rosier still staring at me with the same look, now edged with a vague puzzlement.

Leaning across the table, I reached my hand out to cover his, under the secrecy of the pumpkin juice jug, and dug my fingernails into his hand, hard. I felt the skin break, under my fingers, and smiled. Rosier stiffened, drew in a breath, but knew better than to cry out.

"One word, Rosier. Just one, and You. Are. _Dead._' I hissed.

O O O O O

But I told myself that I wouldn't. I promised myself that I would just try to forget it, concentrate on being the model pupil, force myself to think on my own private projects more, and forget the distractions. I tried.

I really _did_ try to force thoughts of her out of my mind. I must have failed, though. Otherwise, I had no other explanation for why I was waiting, patrolling this empty seventh floor corridor a dozen times, hoping to see her?

And if I was such a success, why then did I now despise myself for being so weak? I never needed anyone before. So why her, and why now?

I knew I had to have her. Somehow. And I always get what I want.

O O O O O

It was Monday morning before I decided what I was going to do.

Fresh from an early shower in the prefect's bathroom, I combed back my hair so it lay tidily, in shining black waves, a little too long according to Professor Slughorn, Head of my House. I would charm it shorter soon, it paid to be on the right side of the Faculty, I reasoned, but I preferred it this length.

I had not forgotten the feel of her hands as she ran her fingers through it, and I was craving to have her do it again.

Double potions was first Monday morning, and as I descended the stone steps into the dungeon, I felt a cool thrill unfurl inside of my stomach. She would be there, in less than…five….three…one second…I would see her. Would she look at me?

I took my seat quickly, and let my eyes sweep the room, the other Slytherin boys murmuring salutations that I did not acknowledge. But Laura wasn't there. I looked again, to be sure, but she really wasn't, her seat next to the Prince girl empty.

Then I caught sight of Tisker, the Marvellous Mudblood Quidditch Champion. If anyone knew what had happened to Laura, it would surely be the Quidditch captain. After all, the last match of the season was virtually upon us, and he would want all the team on top form for Ravenclaw versus Slytherin.

How ironic, I smirked, inadvertently catching the eye of Professor Slughorn, who appeared to have just asked me a question. I had not heard a word.

"Riddle, are you with us today at all m'boy?"

Slughorn's genial rebuff cut across my thoughts, and I straightened up immediately, tried my best to appear interested.I would deal with this now, and have a little chat with Tisker after class.

I knew I would be safe….after our talk, I knew that there was _every_chance the idiot Tisker would simply…forget all about it.

That would be so convenient. And I liked things like that.

O O O O O

I caught up with William Tisker after the Potions class.

I'd stalled, feigning interest in Professor Slughorn's little 'gathering' that he would, he announced, be holding that evening, in his office.

I waited, and luck must have been on my side, for Tisker was the last, apart from myself, to leave.

I hurriedly excused myself from Slughorn's genial, and somewhat one-sided conversation, and followed the Ravenclaw prefect and Quidditch Captain at a brisk pace up the stone steps to the corridor above.

"Tisker!" I called.

William Tisker did not turn to look at me, nor did he acknowledge that I had even spoken, though I knew that he must have heard me.

Riled, I quickened my pace, I was not going to _allow_ him to ignore me.

I grinned to myself, and my fingers twitched toward my wand safely stowed in the pocket of my robes…yew and phoenix feather…my best friend.

Besides, although I did not possess Tisker's heavy build and muscular physique, I was as tall as he was…and willing to wager……quicker.

I touched my wand again, silently, and shook it down to my sleeve with a twisted smile. I may as well enjoy Tisker's company. In a manner of speaking, at least.

"Tisker! I want to speak to you."

I spoke sharply again to the other boy's broad back as it retreated up the staircase. At first I thought he was going to ignore my request again, but once in the corridor at the top of the stairs he turned round to face me, and fixed me with a look of utter contempt, his expression only a little less than an open snarl.

"What do _you_ want, poor boy?" he sneered.

Had I not had a purpose to ask Tisker a question, I would have certainly cursed him long before now. Nonetheless, I treated him to my very best polite expression, usually reserved for Headmaster Dippet and various other Professors, and asked him,

"I was wondering…do you know….I mean..could you tell me where Laura is today? I thought if anyone would know, then you would, as she's one of your team's Chasers?"

"Why should you want to know, Riddle?" answered Tisker, belligerent as ever.

"Natural..concern, of course." I answered, quickly, maintaining the achingly polite front whilst suppressing the almost overwhelming urge to inflict torture and suffering upon the broad faced, fair haired oaf that stood before me.

Tisker sniggered, loudly.

"Infatuated are we, Riddle?" he sneered, cracking his knuckles.

"What makes you think, in your wildest dreams, that she would ever like a penniless scab like you? Where would you take her? To meet Matron at your filthy rat's nest of an orphanage?"

I swallowed, hard , to bite back the curse on my lips as Tisker continued , still sneering.

"She's in the hospital wing, if you must know, Riddle. I'll let her know that she can look forward to marrying you……when she leaves school, dressed in a floursack and living in a hovel, no doubt, isn't that the best you could afford?"

"_Thank_ you for your help, _William._" I said, keeping my tone as light and nonchalant as possible until he was suitably disconcerted.

I smiled at him, pleasantly, and he looked briefly confused before sneering once more, for good measure, and then,he turned his back on me, ostensibly to leave.

Well, I did say he was an idiot.

What he was doing in Ravenclaw, I would never know.

"_Crucio!_"

I heard my own voice, only just before Tisker fell to the floor. Slughorn off preparing for his little party, I knew I would have plenty of time to thoroughly _enjoy_ Tisker….. before wiping his memory.

He could blame the bruises on his beloved Quidditch.

Sometime afterward, I slid my wand back inside my robes, and made quickly for the staircases that led to the hospital wing.

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Thank you for ploughing through this far! If you have, tell me what you think! Thanks!

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	5. Part Four: After The Match

**Disclaimer: Fanfic! Not mine! I own nothing but a leaky cottage and some greedy cats.****

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Part Four

**After The Match

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The hospital wing was deserted as I pushed open the heavy oak doors. Only one bed was occupied, the furthest one from the doors, it was underneath the windows, a white curtain partially concealing its occupant.

Even so, I could make out a slight figure with long dark hair, untied and trailing over the edge of the bed to brush the gleaming white linoleum as it's owner slept.

Swiftly and silently, I made my way down the room.

She looked so beautiful asleep.

So beautiful, in fact, that I watched her for a while, just where I stood, watching her chest rise and fall.

The only thing to mar the picture before me was the dark, ugly bruise on her left temple.

I knew she must have taken a bludger to the head, and hard too, if she was still here.

She did not wake, as I watched her, not making a sound, and she only stirred slightly when I could not resist putting my hand out and ever so softly stroking my fingers down the uninjured side of her face.

Then I heard footsteps. Distant, but even so, I knew I had to be quick, and besides, if I was not, then Professor Binns would want to now why I was so late for History of Magic.

I drew my wand, and produced a bunch of the palest blue roses, the kind no gardener, I knew, could grow in the earth.

"I brought you flowers." I whispered to her sleeping form, placing them into the plain white pottery vase that stood on the nightstand.

And with that, I slipped noiselessly from the room.

That night, I would put the first part of my plan into action.

O O O O O

Slughorn's little soiree seemed to go on forever. It was eleven forty - five before I managed to make my excuses, and although it was Friday night, and students need not rise, the next day, at the customary weekday hour of seven – thirty, I had my own business to attend to.

Slipping between the sheets at midnight, fully clothed, I muttered a spell on my wand. This was a certain spell I had used many a time before, and would wake me and only me, at the time of my command. Tonight, that time was half – past three in the morning, and I had an appointment with Zabini's cloak.

As usual, Zabini did not wake. In the next dorm, he snored blithely all the while I was extracting his cloak, with my now expert fingers, from under his pillow. By the time Abraxas Malfoy had awoken and glanced sleepily around the dorm, I had donned the cloak and swept away, my destination, the Restricted Section.

I knew exactly what I was looking for.

Hauling the huge leather - bound volume down from its precarious shelf, I rubbed my sleeve across the front, clearing away thick dust and enabling me to read the words:

"**_Moste Potente Potions_**"

I smiled to myself and headed out of the library and down to the Dungeons.

I really could not have chosen a better night.

There was the full moon, essential to the success of my chosen potion, and it streamed in through the two tiny skylights at the furthest end of the room by Slughorn's desk.

As for Slughorn himself, I was secure in the knowledge that I would not suffer_ his_ interruption, for when I had finally left his room just a handful of hours ago, he was drunk as a Troll and scarcely coherent, thanks, no doubt, going to the Three Broomstick's finest Oak Matured Mead, no Muggle rationing here.

I was willing to wager that even as I rifled through his private store cupboard, he would be safely tucked away on the red velvet chaise longue in his office, snoring and dreaming of his next hand – picked favourite ascending the ranks to become Minister for Magic.

And I opened the book and began to check the ingredients for the potion I had come here this night to create.

Amortentia, the most powerful love potion of them all.

It was getting light by the time I left the Potions room that night, being careful to vanish all traces of my endeavours. But it had been worth it, for after hours of careful preparation and instructions followed…. not quite to the letter,I never did, for I added some of my own special ones.

Natural talent, I liked to call it, as did Slughorn.

I had not made any mistakes thus far. I was damned if I was going to make any now, on this most vital of occasions.

No. The potion was perfect, steam rising in perfect spirals and the scent………the scent was that of cut grass, the familiar heady perfume of the lilies of the valley, the smell of cold, fresh air ….and the sea.

Blended in with these however, so subtly they were barely detectable, were some other stranger smells….one tinged with iron, metallic, and the other a cold, almost musty smell that I found oddly comforting…reassuring…and I could not explain why.

I knew, though, that sometime, somewhere, I had smelt that smell before. Perhaps when I was very young.

I raised my wand with my left hand over the cauldron to perform the final, vital stage of the potion.

Without this, it would not work the way I needed it to, so it was vital that I got it right.

Wincing, I reached up with my other hand, and pulled out a few strands of my hair. I held them over the cauldron; they hung, long and jet black, and finally, muttering the incantation to activate the potions powers, I dropped them into the cauldron.

Success would be mine.

O O O O O

The following day, predictably, I awoke late, the indistinct winter sun weak, but nonetheless, climbing higher in a pale grey sky. Perhaps it would snow again today.

It was the fourteenth of December, and the year was drawing to a close.

All around me, in the corridors and in surreptitious classroom whispers, the other students excitedly swapped stories of holiday plans.

Even the Mudbloods, at least, the ones who lived in the country and were allowed home, seemed excited, despite the Muggle state of open warfare.

I doubted that I would have been allowed to return to the Orphanage even had I wanted to. In one of the Matron's cold and infrequent letters, borne purely of duty rather than any particular concern for my welfare, Mrs Cole had informed me that most of the younger children had been evacuated, had left London to be taken care of by the charitable folk of the English countryside.

One of them had even decided to adopt young Amy Benson permanently, to help her on her farm. How delightful.

I sneered to nobody in particular, chuckling lowly to myself as I read the Matron's ill-educated scrawl. I was sure Amy Benson would be very very happy indeed to never have to see bad, nasty Tom Riddle again.

Just as well, for her really, if a little disappointing for me. Amy would be just fourteen now, but already I had been thinking of the fun I could have had with her when she was a couple of years older. I knew she would have kept quiet, she always did.

She had, after all, never told a soul about the time I took her and Dennis into the cave. Not that she really had a choice about that, all things considered.

And she had certainly never told about the other times, the times I had gone to her room when I had gone home for the summer, at night, when the corridors were cold and dark.

Her fear was almost tangible. I could almost taste it, touch it, radiating from within her, this blonde, pretty young girl, and then I'd be pushing her, hard, against the stone wall in her thin, cheap nightgown, my hand over her mouth, though I knew she would never dare scream.

It was intoxicating, the feeling of absolute control. I liked it. Besides,it made the other things..the darker feelings that haunted me..go away, for a little while. .

I wondered lazily if the woman who had given Amy a home lived by the sea. The sound of the waves, I knew, would keep her awake at night. She would think of me….for all the wrong reasons. Wonderful.

I fell back into a dream filled sleep…..and by the time I finally rose, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, threw on robes, and went up the steps leading to the common room, and out of the portrait hole, the sky was darkening outside.

Tomorrow was to be the last Quidditch match of the season, before the Holidays officially began on the following Monday. The Hogwarts Express would leave for London, leaving me behind, leaving me here, my real home.

The only one I had ever had.

Sunday dawned, flat, and grey. I awoke before the others in my dormitory, having slept so late the previous day, to the surprise of my housemates, and Professor Slughorn, who had decided that I must be ill and had sent me, after tea the previous night, to the hospital wing, for a checkup. I let him send me, despite the excitement in the pit of my stomach, anticipation…I couldn't wait for the results of my plan, I knew they would be worthwhile.

But better still, if Slughorn thought I was ill, he would be even less likely to discover the real reason I was so tired, not that I thought he would anyway, I was never so careless as to leave evidence.

But even so, it was nice to have even better cover than I thought for my nighttime activities.

And besides, I realized, I was going to the Hospital wing.

When I arrived , though, and reported to Madam Warham, the end bed by the window was smooth, white and empty, and the night table too was bare.

She must have recovered then, enough to return to Ravenclaw's dorms. I wondered if she had taken the roses with her. Something I had given her. Did she know it had been me? I certainly didn't realize, in any case, that I would think on it, or care. I did, though, and that bothered me, like something new that didn't quite fit.

O O O O O

But here I was now, making my way down to the Quidditch pitch, and muttering a charm to keep the rain and the mud from seeping through the multitude of cracks and holes in my secondhand boots.

The match had already begun. The shriek of a whistle reverberated across the pitch, and I watched from afar as fourteen blue and green blurs rose into the sky, amidst yelling and catcalling from the stands below.

Laura was no longer in the Hospital wing, so I knew that one of the blue streaks in the distance must be her, and sure enough, as I came closer, I noticed the weak winter sun glint on a flash of silver, on dark streaming hair. I was sure she would insist on playing, and I was right, though from where I stood, she seemed to be keeping a very close eye on the bludgers this time.

Laura flew, gripping her Nimbus two fifty with one hand and the Quaffle in the other, heading for the Slytherin goalhoops. Leaning forward, she flung out her arm and the Quaffle with it.

"_Ames has the Quaffle for Ravenclaw…..she passes to White…White goes for the goal………and Ravenclaw score!" _announced Peter Alyon, the Gryffindor commentator from his station on the podium. Cheers and stamping went up from the blue and silver clad supporters, and I saw Lucretia White showing off to the crowd.Laura had flown across the other side of the pitch. She hadn't seen me.

Quidditch. I had loathed and detested it as long as I had been at Hogwarts, having no desire to play with the "team spirit" that Professor Dumbledore in particular, was so fond of advocating. But I couldn't help smiling in spite of myself, as I reached the Slytherin stand at last, where the vehement booing had only just died away, and took the bench-seat next to Antonin Dolohov.

Dolohov was the most die hard Quidditch supporter that one could be when one could not so much as leave the ground on a broomstick without sustaining grievious bodily injuries.

On this occasion, though, he looked more ridiculous than he usually did, having charmed his face a bright, Slytherin green, and his eyebrows, I could only presume were **_both_** supposed to be silver.

Only Dolohov, not noted for Charms brilliance, (or indeed, any brilliance whatsoever) had only succeeded in charming the right brow silver. The left one seemed to have sprouted to several times it's usual thickness, and turned a violent shade of puce, and Dolohov was trying to conceal this blunder with his hand over one side of his face at all times.

At the moment of the failed Slytherin save by Timothy Holliland, though, his hand dropped into his lap, and as I sat down beside him , I was treated to full view of his latest ridiculous mishap. But although I curled my lip at him, smirking, and muttering "Fool.", he fixed me with a baleful look, no doubt hoping that I would fix his idiotic mistake.

I looked away from him in disgust, letting him know that he could stay like that, despite his pleas.

And **_my_** eyes, well, somehow, they drifted back to the pitch, where Laura was in mid-air above the rest, trying to refasten one of her boots that had come loose.That was the moment when I saw her look up, and her eyes swept the stadium, the Slytherin seats in particular.

For one wild moment, her eyes locked on mine and we stared at each other, neither looking away quickly, as one might if they had accidentally caught somebody's eye.

Then the whistle blew, and she had pulled her broom around fast, the moment gone.

Slytherin lost that day. Despite the fact that Abraxas Malfoy caught the Golden Snitch from under Ravenclaw seeker Nancy Thurblack's nose, Ravenclaw had already scored five hundred and fifty to Slytherin's three hundred. This left them a clear hundred points ahead.

So, the match was over, and as the spectators in green trudged, defeated, back through the mud to the castle, the Ravenclaw team and their supporters were cheering and shouting, heading back no doubt to the party that would ensue in Ravenclaw tower that night.

Laura, though, appeared to be lagging behind, and I knew that this was my chance. If only I could catch her eye.

I lagged behind as well, making an irritable gesture at Dolohov as he attempted to follow me, no doubt to bore me with more supplications to 'sort him out'. I nearly did, though not the way he had intended, and eventually he sloped off to join Abraxas, who was boasting about his capture of the snitch so loudly, one would think their team had not, in fact, been the **_losing_** side. How typical of Malfoy.

As I mingled with the crowd, I saw her prop her broom against the refreshment table and look into the empty jugs disconsolately. I slid through the crowd quickly to join her as casually as I could. I was pretending to tidy the empty paper cups and juice jugs away, using my wand to stack them all up on top of each other, when she looked up and saw me.

"Nice to _see_ you." she said, grinning so that I wouldn't miss the meaning.

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad you think so." I answered. "I must say that is was very generous of you to give that shot to White. You could have done it yourself."

She smiled again, showing the chipped tooth on the right-hand side.

"Maybe that's why you don't play Quidditch."

"I'm not very fond of team sports." I answered.

"A pity," she remarked "You'd have been good as a Chaser, being so tall."

She peered hopefully into another cup.

"Allow me," I said, pointing my wand at one of the unused jugs. Silently, it began to refill. I closed my fingers on the phial in my robes. _Now or never_.

"Tricky.." she said, admiringly as she watched. "Very tricky. You know, you aren't supposed to be able to do that until Seventh Year."

I shrugged, arranging my features into what I hoped was a modest expression. She didn't notice what else I added to the glass before I handed it over. She had turned back to William Tisker, who was calling her name and gesturing back towards the castle.

"I'll be there a bit later, Willam" Laura said.

I didn't like the familiarity with which she addressed him. He looked at me standing with her, as well, and sneered slightly. I stared straight back at him over her shoulder, stopping quickly when she turned back to me, and took my arm.

"Would you care to walk with me awhile, Mr Riddle?" she enquired.

"I rather think I would." I replied.

As we walked, the crowd dispersed in the opposite direction, back up the hill in a constant swell of voices, talking and shouting, some still singing. All were fading fast as the throng of students and staff headed back to the castle. The cold was beginning to set in for the night.

I looked at Laura, walking beside me. We didn't say anything for a while, just walked together, the rising wind blowing her blue Quidditch robes and my cloak. Some leftover leaves from the long-since departed Autumn blew around our feet.The sun hung low in the darkening sky. I wondered if it would snow soon.

Laura seemed to be deep in thought. She was still holding the paper cup I had handed her, still undrunk, I noticed, with a certain disappointment. Still, didn't Ravenclaws think hard all the time? I should know, after all. I very nearly was one.

I wondered, if in all the History of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Sorting Hat had actually let a student choose their house for themselves.

I had felt foolish, sitting on the stool before all the other students, the Professors. My name was one of the last they called, indeed, there were only two other students left waiting when my name was read out. Professor Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster, stood, with the scroll of parchment in his hand, calling out names in alphabetical order…. Alyon, de Brettan, Burns, Cottingley, Crabbe, then onto Malfoy, and Malfoy , these last being the twins Abraxas and Apollonia, then, Myrtle Miles the Mudblood, until he had reached Rafael, Rees, and,

"Riddle, Tom Marvolo."

As I had sat down, I noticed Dumbledore looking at me, intently, out of the corner of my eye, just before I heard **_that_** voice…a voice that only I could hear, a voice that was inside my own head, yet was not mine.

"Interesting, very, very interesting indeed. Wondered if I would ever even **_get _**another one of YOU, in fact. Thought you were all gone…

"Hmm, so… what is it to be then? Fearless, there's no doubt, very **_Gryffindor_**…but also…. Ravenclaw perhaps?….Definitely use your head….don't you? Very inventive, that spell with the rabbit, and wandless too, if a tad brutal."

"He had it coming to him," I had said, before I realized I had spoken aloud, the hall looking puzzled, all except Dumbledore, whose expression, though still, was hawk-like, as though he was listening far more intently than he wished it to appear.

A stab of resentment had shot through me, before the voice spoke again.

"Ah, yes, young Riddle. A rare treat, to look inside your mind."

It paused, most likely for dramatic effect, and I began to feel angrier still….

"So I'll thank you for the pleasure by letting you choose."

"Choose?"

"Choose, Master Riddle."

I made my choice. I made the right choice.

I folded my other hand into my pocket to keep out the cold and we walked on.

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Thank you for reading! Please review. 


	6. Part Five: Twilight In The Grounds

**Disclaimer: Fanfic, so not mine!**

**Thank you very much to everyone who has been nice! Enjoy!**

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FIVE

**Twilight In The Grounds**

The situation really could not have worked out better if I had put her under the Imperius curse, and do not think that I had not considered it.

We walked, very aware of one another's presence. And so it was that, a short while on, we ended up in the shadows of a huge beech tree over the far side of the lake.

Dusk was beginning to fall. Laura leaned back against the gnarled trunk of the old tree, took a cursory glance down into the glass she still held, and raised it to her mouth. I realized I was holding my breath, but I couldn't take it back, not now.

Then suddenly, she stopped. She lowered the glass, looking intently at its slightly shimmering surface, and then raised her questioning eyes to meet my guilty ones.

"Amortentia...?" she said, lightly. " I'm impressed, Tom. Tricky... Like I said, though I'm not sure you're supposed to do this at all, not even in _Seventh Year_"

She paused, not meeting my eyes again.

For my part,my mind was racing. How did she know? I knew she must have some sort of secret that I didn't know about, and I was determined to find out what it was.

"It is prohibited, of course, Tom, as you know," she continued, quietly.

"I mean, you must know that, being a Prefect. Fearful trouble with Professor Dippet……especially with ( she held up the glass, and I was _sure_ I saw a tiny smile play around the edges of her lips )…. evidence." she finished.

_She's threatening me…._

_I_ was the one that threatened, as a rule, and this suited me fine, so this was uncharted territory.

I wasn't sure yet how exactly it felt. Through it, though, I could not help but feel a grudging respect for a witch that would stand up to me, after being surrounded by the other Slytherins, and myself their revered leader, as they hung on my every word, or more usually, every order but still, I knew that if she went to Dippet, or even worse, Dumbledore - he had never liked me - I would be expelled, surely, and I couldn't let that happen, especially not with what awaited me in the outside world.

I wondered if she really knew how much I stood to lose. And if she wanted to threaten me, why did she look so pleased? I decided not to take any chances. She knew what I had done. I wouldn't trust this. Couldn't.

I drew my wand, and looked her in the eye again.

_Beautiful, those eyes..._

And I hesitated. I hesitated too long. I never did, before. I was a fool. I knew it was a stupid thing to do.

Laura had her own wand out and pointed straight at me before I could react. She took a step closer, then another. She opened her other hand and the glass fell from it, cracking in two on the cold ground. I watched for a moment, horrified, as my carefully-brewed elixir seeped forlornly into the grass.

But I did not need the potion now to smell that scent, the scent I knew was hers from that _other_ dark night. For now, at this moment, she had moved so near to me that I stood frozen, the words of the memory charm I had planned to use somehow forgotten, and in that second, I reached out to her, and she reached out to me.

"You really won't be needing potions like that, Tom." she whispered.

I looked back at the empty glass, and so did she. Then, without warning, she pointed her wand at it from under my arm, and said, quietly:

"_Evanesco_."

The glass, together with its' guilty contents, vanished.

"Evidence." she said.

O O O O O

My heart seemed to be thumping inside my chest. Did she know even then? To know more about myself than I had ever disclosed to anybody?

I knew it was a risk, a terrible danger, but admit that I was afraid?

I wasn't that weak... was I? Was this weakness? I wasn't sure.

I tried to tell myself that I was doing this purely for my own enjoyment when I pulled her closer to me. I wanted it, at least. Wanted her.

I found myself, my hands on her shoulders and pushing her backwards until I had forced her right up against the tree trunk, against the smooth bark of the beech tree. I was breathing, hard, and I could hear her, breathing too, audible, and hot on the exposed flesh of my neck in the chill of this freezing December night.

I was much taller than her, and with my body now pressing hard against her, she was forced to look up at me. She did so, her eyes meeting mine in a mixture of fear and wanting, and a certain trepidation suddenly there, but a moment later, when I looked back, it was gone and her eyes were closed again. She slid her hands over my chest and down onto my hipbones, kissing me with such a fervour that it was my turn to gasp, and at last I let myself fall. I could feel my legs shaking slightly as she brushed aside the fabric of my cloak and began to toy with the buttons on my shirt.

O O O O O

Laura looked at me wide-eyed from where she lay next to me on the dark grass under the tree.

"Are you sure?" I asked her.

"Sure about what?" she asked, her face pressed against my chest, and her voice muffled, I could feel her smile.

"Sure about what?" she repeated, her slight French accent reappearing momentarily. She looked down at her hands, suddenly shy.

"Sure about this." I said.

Laura shrugged and looked away before answering.

"I've never……you know, not before, I mean, but…" She stumbled suddenly on the words.

"I'm sure I want to kiss you." she offered, finally.

She did then. I didn't stop her, and she didn't stop me as I pressed my mouth on hers, gently at first, tentative and slow, then harder and more forceful.

I could feel her fingernails through my clothes as she held me. It was cold and a little damp on the grass, but it didn't matter...it really didn't matter... because she was loosening my tie and kissing the bare skin of my shoulders where she had pushed my shirt off of them...and I _liked_ it and...

I managed a sigh between breaths, and rolled over, lying halfway on top of her, my leg between her legs and pulled aside her blue Quidditch robes with one hand. I waited, but she didn't move away or tell me to stop.

She was quiet until I ran my tongue down, experimentally, over her exposed neck, when she gave a sudden short, high gasp that echoed across the pitch. I smiled, liking the reaction to my ministrations, and went further, pushing her robe down by degrees.

Her underclothes were in the way, but my fingers, long and agile,soon found the laces at the back and deftly pulled them loose. I managed to slide one hand a little inside her clothes, my heart pounding. Her skin was very warm, and I could feel something soft under my hand.

It felt strange and new to be with a girl like this. I had never permitted such things to happen before,in this way, and especially on someone else's terms. Even I was surprised by my own reaction. I didn't know I was capable of such things.

She reached up, and began to kiss me again, on the mouth, and feeling more confident over this, I slid my hand onto her leg, just above the knee, and moved my fingers slowly upward, until I was almost actually touching her knickers. I paused, half waiting to be slapped, but although I felt her stiffen slightly underneath me, she didn't say anything.

"Can I?" I whispered, terrified.

"Just touch?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want….. more?" I said, half hopeful.

"I'm a virgin." she told me, bluntly. "Are you?"

I paused, considering my answer, wondering if I should lie. I could not think of anything for once, so I fell back on the truth.

"Yes," I said.

"Have you kissed anyone before?" she said, curiously, reaching out to touch my cheek, in the dark.

"Not really." I answered, very conscious that she was smiling a little, as if she had not expected this answer.

"Have….have you?"

"Not really." she echoed." I mean, not at all really. I was sixteen in October," she added, as if this would explain the matter.

"I won't hurt you." I told her, trying to sound fervent. Though I knew I probably would have, in a fashion, if she'd asked, or I thought I would get away with it.

"I can't," she said, firmly, squeezing me a little through my clothes. I could hear the smile in her voice, and she moved her hand back up, under my shirt to rest on my bare stomach, her fingers running lightly through the sparse, dark hair there.

" I can't." she said again, suddenly melancholy,

"I won't hurt you." I repeated, still kissing her. "You'll like it, I promise."

_Though how I would know..._

"If my father were to find out," She said, "he would kill me. Before marriage, _and_ a with a halfblood. He would _really_ kill me."

I stopped and sat up.

"At least I'm not a mudblood. Like dear Tisker." I said, shortly.

She looked upset, and took her hand away, stroking my cheek gently instead.

"To me, it doesn't matter what you are. By my father's standards, though, believe me, you ARE. He's more than a little exacting, with a great many things. He says…you know…. there's no such thing as half, it's either pure blood or filth. Mother was somehow related to Rowena Ravenclaw. Hence my middle name.Pure blood all the way, father says...and _doesn't_ he love to say it..."

She sighed, then reached up, untangling her long hair, now stuck with twigs and fallen leaves that Autumn had left behind, and pulled the silver comb from her hair with a degree of difficulty.

"Look."

She held it out to me. I reached out, and when I took it from her, I could sense the power almost at once. It was truly beautiful, and unarguably, unique.

I stared down at it, transfixed, taking in the gleaming metal, and the carvings along the top

Two eagles in flight were wrought from the fine metal, their wings outstretched, their talons long, curving downwards, to create the points where it was inserted into the wearer's hair.

"She left me this, when she died." Laura continued, in a half whisper, though quite matter-of-fact.

" My inheritance, if you like. There wasn't much else to inherit, when it came down to it."

"I thought Purebloods were all rich and aristocratic," I said, only halfway serious, yet I was thinking of my own Pureblood relations I had been trying to trace in secret for years. The Gaunts. The name itself sounded impressive. I felt sure that they would certainly be rich and well-to-do, and one day, I was going to find out.

Laura made a face and shook her head, laughing.

"Not all are terribly rich! But still, I can't deny it has come in **_very_** useful, especially if you have interests like mine."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Would these interests be the reason why you go sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest late at night?" I questioned.

She grinned at me, her face pale and excited in the moonlight.

"One night, I might invite you to sneak off with me. If you weren't a Prefect, that is."

"So…let me guess.." I said, trying to sound casual as I held up the comb, between thumb and forefinger. "Dark detector? Secrecy sensor? Which one is it?"

Laura grinned again.

"Oh, very good. Very good indeed. Top marks again Mr Riddle!" she laughed.

"Actually, it's both…. and neither…well…I'm really not entirely certain, but I do know that when I wear it, I can see through any invisibility cloak, and detect any kind of secrecy, anything hidden, any mischief."

"So…that's how you did it.." I breathed, eventually. "That's how you knew about...about the cloak.." I tailed off, suddenly feeling like I shouldn't say any more. But she smiled, regardless.

"That's how I knew," she agreed, with a hint of triumph.

"Shall you be more careful when you spy on me in future, Mr Riddle?"

"I rather hoped you would permit me the pleasure of not needing to……ah……spy." I answered.

"**_Perhaps_** I shall." she said, smiling. I reached out for her again, but it was at that moment that we both heard voices, coming across the Quidditch pitch.

O O O O O

Four cloaked figures were making their way over the grounds, one of them carrying a lantern.

Laura looked panic-stricken.

"I must go," she said, suddenly wide-eyed and fearful."I'll have to go the other way, up to the tower."

She tugged at her robes trying to rearrange them in a hurry, and making them look worse. I drew my wand, fixed her robes, then my own clothing, and turned back quickly to look in the direction of the noise.

"Riddle!" called a voice, although I knew they could not have seen me.

Laura began to turn away, but I pulled her back. Her sleeve fell back and then I saw it, my Slytherin tie, wound around her wrist. I raised my eyebrows again.

"That's just perverse!" I told her, but secretly, I thrilled at the idea.

"For luck!" she said, "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Keep it," I breathed. I had spent my last four galleons on buying another by Owl order from Madam Malkins, but I didn't care.

"I just will then. Right here." She raised her wrist.

"Kiss me." I said.

She smiled and bit her lip nervously. But she kissed me anyway.

When I opened my eyes again, she'd gone.

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**To be continued...soon.**

**Thank you for reading**!


	7. Part Six: Slytherin Issues

**Disclaimer: As always...**

**Thank you for kind comments, especially the person who told me Tom is very stalker-ish! He certainly is...Laura just hasn't realised just yet...**

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Part Six

**Slytherin Issues**

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"Riddle!" 

"Riddle, are you out here?"

The light from the lantern held by Abraxas Malfoy shone on to the frosty grass in pools. It uplit the face of the tall Slytherin, with his sleek blond hair and pale, high cheekboned face.

Abraxas stood, one hand holding the lantern aloft, and the other slung lazily around Evan Rosier's older, Sixth year sister, Lucy Louisa.

Though she was in Hufflepuff, and could not seem to cast even the simplest of spells, Lucy Rosier had long, fluffy blonde hair, large, pale blue eyes, and somewhat over-developed breasts. These last were usually prominently displayed in low cut robes. This was, of course when she managed to keep said robes on; however, if the rumours were to be believed, this was one more task that Lucy Louisa failed at.

All these factors, whilst making me faintly nauseous, appeared to make her vastly appealing to the likes of Malfoy, and Vittorio Zabini, whom I had caught her "servicing" in the Arithmancy classroom after lights out, just a fortnight before.

I assumed she must have tired of Zabini's technique, though, as from where I stood, I could clearly see Malfoy's hand caressing her bottom under a canary yellow cloak carrying the Hufflepuff badge. The colour clashed horribly with her brassy hair.

On Abraxas' other side, her short blonde bob as platinum pale as her brother's slightly shorter hair, stood Apollonia Malfoy.

Bundled up in a voluminous black jumper, she kept glancing across at Abraxas and Lucy, her light eyebrows furrowed.

Unlike her brother, whose cloak was flung on over shirt sleeves, the first few buttons of which were inexplicably undone to reveal so much pale, hairless chest, she was wrapped up fit for the Arctic Circle, so much so that you could barely discern her face amidst the many layers.

Tagging nervously behind was Elijah Nott, small and skinny, he too wrapped up though, in a huge green jumper, and black cloak, his close-set beady eyes scanning the fields nervously, like the rodent he reminded me of.

I stepped out, from the cover of the beech tree, and muttered irritably,

"_Lumos_," wondering why none of the others had thought what seemed to me a rather simplistic idea.

"Ah, Riddle," called Abraxas, in his rather pompous drawl.

"Where have you been all this time?"

I eyed Malfoy coldly.

"I assume you are referring to my disinclination to celebrate your failure, Malfoy?"

Abraxas' handsome face looked surprised and somewhat wrong-footed. At his elbow, indeed, barely taller than it, his sister Apollonia glared at me indignantly.

"There was no need for that, Riddle." she said sharply.

"Really? Dear me, Polly, your family loyalty is quite charming." I sneered.

"I'm just _saying_….." began the pale, petite girl again.

"Shut up, Polly.' mumbled Abraxas, uncomfortably, removing his arm from inside Lucy Rosier's cloak, who scowled.

"We were looking for you, Tom." Lucy said, in her high nasal whine.

"That much is obvious." I pursed my lips and fixed Abraxas with a steely glare. "What do you want?"

"What are you doing out here anyway, Riddle? It's freezing." Malfoy blurted.

I raised one eyebrow imperiously, staring him out.

"Am I now to answer to you, Abraxas?" I asked, softly.

It was a threat, and I could tell that Malfoy took it as such, for he took a step or two backwards, and said, hurriedly, averting his gaze,

" Ah…….Professor Slughorn wanted a word about you staying here over the holidays, you're the only one you see, in our House…..and …well…er…"

Suddenly, Apollonia cut him off.

"Tell him about Dolohov, then, 'Brax'. Hurry up. We haven't got all night_I_ want to go _in_. " she complained.

"Besides" she added, and curled her lip at me, pointedly. " it isn't like we're in _decent company."_

I sneered straight back at her, thinking how I would love to teach Malfoy's know it all sister a lesson she wouldn't forget.

It would be very satisfying to use the Cruciatus on her until she was begging me to stop. The thought almost distracted me completely, for I began to think of Laura, and her own pure blood that she did not care about, that she had allowed to be besmirched by my filthy fingers, my _dirty_ blood. At least, she said she didn't mind, but how could I tell for sure? I wondered if, even now, she was in her dormitory regretting everything, in the showers, the smell of carbolic soap pungent, scrubbing, skin red and raw. I realised I was biting my own lip.

"What about Dolohov, Abraxas?" I snapped, tasting a little blood in my mouth. "Surely not something else to do with the fool's feeble attempts at special effects?"

"Er….if you mean his Quidditch get up, then…yeah" muttered Malfoy.

"It's priceless, honestly, Riddle. Much worse than earlier." sniggered Nott, joining in.

"You're going to love it. But not as good as this though, look!"

With a flourish, Elijah Nott pulled a broomstick out from under his cloak. A broomstick that I recognized at once, the newest model, with it's shining gold letters on the handle.

I recognized it, because it was Laura's cherished Nimbus Two Fifty, the sixteenth birthday gift she had received from her father less than three months before.

"Where did you get that?" I asked sharply.

"Found it." he replied, casually. "Left on the pitch. And guess what else? I know whose it is!"

"It's that new Ravenclaw girl's!" squawked Lucy Rosier.

"The one with all the straggly hair. It's her fault you lost the match. Smash it, 'Brax'." she added spitefully "That'll teach her a lesson, she's always showing off on that broom."

To my utter horror, and before I could stop him, Abraxas Malfoy had wrenched the broom from Nott's grasp, and swung it backwards over his shoulder. It made contact with the trunk of the Beech, and splintered in two with a sickening crack.

Malfoy, and Nott guffawed loudly while Lucy Louisa giggled.

Only Apollonia gasped and said,

" You shouldn't have done that. She helped me with my Magical Creatures essay in the Library last week. She's quite nice. And," she added, glancing again at me

" _She's_ a pureblood."

There was nothing I could do in front of them. I would deal with this, I told myself, just not now. It was nothing to do with them.

I pulled my cloak around myself without another word, and swept back towards the castle, vowing inwardly that Malfoy and the Rosier bitch would pay.

O O O O O

Nott and the Malfoy twins caught up with me as I was going down the stone steps to the dorm. I could hear a groaning, wailing noise as I drew closer to the door.

Pulling out my wand, I brandished it at the doorway. The door blasted open, slamming back against the wall with such force that the stairs shook, and Dolohov, who had been sitting on his bed hiding his face in his hands, looked up in spite of himself.

The charm that had got stuck on his eyebrow seemed to have spread across his face, and, although he seemed to have been able to remove most of the green colour, now his entire face was covered with bizarre, mauve fuzz. The fuzz appeared to be creeping down one side of his neck, as well, and by the look on his face, it was a painful progress.

"Why didn't you go to Slughorn?" I enquired, in a bored tone.

"He begged us not to." Apollonia said. "He'd be in fearful trouble anyway, for messing around with unauthorized charms."

"Wherever _did_ you find such charms?" I asked, with heavy sarcasm, though I knew the answer.

"I looked in your books," whined Dolohov from under his hands. "But the charms in them are hard, Riddle, and I couldn't do the last part right."

I laughed sourly.

"Why am I _not_ surprised, Dolohov? Perhaps that will teach you to leave such things to the better wizard." I sneered.

"Can you fix me, Riddle? Please…it hurts, and I can't go home tomorrow like this, my mother……she'd be so upset."

"Poor Mama," I spat. "And of course _I_can fix it. _If_ I choose to. Though, perhaps making you suffer will encourage you to keep out of my property?" Sparks flew from my wand and I slammed my free hand down on Dolohov's nightstand to emphasize the point. Dolohov jumped about a foot in the air and whimpered.

"Please, Riddle, I won't, never again, I promise….just fix me, please fix me…"

I still had my wand drawn, and I tapped it in the palm of my right hand, pretending to consider.

"All right, Antonin," I agreed, smirking. "I'll fix you. But I warn you….this may hurt……. a little."

O O O O O

Later on, when Dolohov had finished shrieking, Nott and Mulciber had finished drinking their secret supply of Firewhisky and collapsed in a drunken stupor, and Evan Rosier had finished threatening to hex Abraxas Malfoy "For touching my sister!" (obviously quite unaware that most of the Seventh year boys had done far more than merely touch her), all was quiet in the dormitory.

No one at all noticed somebody steal across the grounds towards a large Beech tree, and gather up the pieces of a broken broomstick with gold letters on the handle.

By the morning, I had fixed that too.

Slipping silently back to the Slytherin dorm, I curled up in my bed ,and slept more peacefully than I had in many long nights.

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**To be continued...**

**Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	8. Part Seven: Trysts And Troublemakers

**Disclaimer: Humble fanfic.**

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**Part Seven**

**Trysts And Troublemakers**

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Laura had been right about the Amortentia. I would not be needing it.

To begin with, I worried. Maybe she would just go back to ignoring me, but if I had thought as much, she was to prove me wrong.

I awoke just as the sky was getting light, and despite having so little repose the night before, I couldn't get back to sleep.

I had enjoyed very pleasant dreams relating to the events of the night before, and they certainly _didn't_ involve Malfoy or Dolohov.

Jerking back the velvet drapes around my bed, I glanced over at the clock. It was ten minutes to seven.

I made my way down to the prefect's bathroom. In a couple of hours, the whole school would be frantic, for the Hogwarts express left for London at eleven.

O O O O O

I lay in the bath for a long while, just trying to empty my mind, but whenever I tried I just started to think thoughts that I knew I shouldn't be thinking, thoughts about _her_. It occurred to me that I didn't even know if she was going home for the holidays.

I hadn't bothered to say goodbye to any of my 'friends', and only Abraxas came to say goodbye to me, later that morning, as Apollonia stood huffily at the library's double doors and looked the other way, lips pursed.

Abraxas placed a small package down on the desk.

"For Christmas Day, you know." he muttered.

I did not reply, but as he left and his twin sister fell into step beside him, I distinctly heard her say,

"I don't know why you bother, actually,Brax, honestly I don't. It isn't like he ever does with you, I mean………"

"Shut _up_, Polly…" Abraxas groaned, as they turned the corner out of earshot.

O O O O O

I spent the rest of the day in the empty Slytherin common room, reading the rare edition of Hogwarts: A History, that nobody was supposed to remove from the library.

Madam Finnelly was tidying the Lower school library when I did it, charming it to fit inside my bag and walking out quickly and quietly.

I guessed I would have to put it back sooner or later, in case Professor Dumbledore heard about it, and suspected me, as I knew the interfering old goat would.

Since all the Professors knew I would be staying over the holidays, I still had night patrol, even if there would now be fewer of my fellow students to catch out of bed and take points from. It was almost a shame, but duty called, and besides, I was hungry, not having eaten properly all day.

Night duty was at ten, so at nine-fifteen I left the Slytherin dungeon, and made my way down past where I knew the Hufflepuffs slept, in the basement, to the kitchens where I ordered the nearest House-Elf to get me a meal.

The elf obeyed immediately, and when I had finished I left the plates for them to clear away, and began my nightly tour of the castle.

O O O O O

The place was completely deserted. I did hear noise from the Hufflepuff common room, a lot of Hufflepuffs had stayed, mainly because it was, as we all said, the house for virtual Squibs like Lucy Rosier, and the Mudbloods like Myrtle Miles, the most unpopular girl in the school.

Lucy, I knew, had gone home with Evan, but I could have sworn that I heard Miles' high, irritating voice coming from behind the portrait.

My nightly tour of the castle always culminated in the long and dreary climb to the top of the Astronomy tower. This part of night duty was hated by all, and no less myself, for the climb consisted of no less than 498 stone steps, and ended on the freezing parapet some hundreds of feet above the grounds. Tonight, though, I reached the platform, and I realized I was not alone. The figure, in its dark, blue velvet cloak turned at the sound of my footfalls on the stone, and it shook off the hood.

"Hello, Tom." said Laura. "I wondered when you'd be along."

I paused, then took a step towards her. I couldn't tell then, who exactly reached out for who first, but then I was holding her and suddenly, suddenly, I felt a lot warmer.

"You're out of bed, Ames," I murmured into her shoulder.

"And _you're_ a prefect." she agreed, and I felt her smile.

"That's right."

"Terrible, isn't it?" she said.

O O O O O

And so was set the precedent. We would meet then, in secret, after hours, whenever we could.

By day, I was perfect, studious Tom Riddle. At night, I would go to do my duty as a prefect, yet the only one in the castle now disregarding all the rules was myself. The very one who was supposed to be enforcing them. Except Laura, of course.

But I never did take any points from Ravenclaw.

O O O O O

Christmas Eve had arrived, and despite the fact that a war raged in the Muggle world, at Hogwarts, no such depression reigned. Indeed, it was quite the opposite, as most of the Muggle born witches and wizards had elected to remain at school rather than return to a potentially dangerous home.

Laura had told me last night, as she stood on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss over my earlobe, that she would be returning home Christmas morning, early. Her father, she confided, was still in France, and could not come sooner. I did not ask her any more specifics on what Aster Ames did, but from the way she spoke of him, I assumed that it was not a Ministry –style, office job.

Christmas morning itself, was nevertheless an unusual departure time, but inside I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, was celebrating Christmas early.

Tonight- I knew the entirety of the Slytherin dungeons would be deserted, for of course by the very nature of our Founder, Muggles in Slytherin were not a common occurrence.

Tonight, I knew, that I would be at liberty to do as I wished, without being seen by anyone, and besides, I told myself, grinning to the deserted corridor at large, I would deal with anyone that DID happen to pry into my private business…. in my own, special way. I slashed my wand through the air in front of me, rehearsing for the moment.

Tonight, I was going to ask her to spend the whole night with me, in the Slytherin dormitory. We had talked about it before, briefly, but never had the nerve to go ahead with the plan, lest Professors Slughorn and Flitwick discover one missing from Ravenclaw and one extra in the dungeons of Slytherin House.

But on Christmas Eve, I knew that past ten pm, Slughorn would be prostate on his red, velvet chaise longue, snoring heartily with his glasses on the floor and an empty bottle of Oak Matured Mead slowly slipping from his feeble grip.

Slughorn had in fact invited me to spend the evening with himself and a "few friends that you ought to meet, m'boy, in the interests of your future career".

I had thanked him and accepted his invite graciously, telling him how much I was looking forward to the party, but all along I knew I had no intention of spending this precious Christmas Eve with my Professor.

I had never brought Laura down here to the dungeons before, though the temptation had been strong. We kissed and she would sometimes let me go further, but would always stop me before I could go too far, her hand closing over my wrist and the faint whisper,

"Tom…."

Some nights it was easier, but on others it was unbearable, and I would have to return to the cold sheets and spend the night alone, plagued by feverish dreams of all the things I wanted to do, if only I could persuade her to want them too.

I knew she was still afraid of her father, and of anyone finding out about 'us'.

I, too, wanted our relationship kept private, if only to avoid endless comments and speculation by Malfoy, Nott and the rest. Laura was none of their business, anyway.

O O O O O

So it was that, at a quarter to ten, my work in the dormitory was done. With a flick of my wand, I had cleaned the whole place, including the filthy mess that Dolohov and Mulciber used to make, butterbeer bottles and discarded wrappers of Droobles best blowing gum the most inoffensive of their assorted litter.

The sheets on my own bed were clean and crisp. I had become accomplished through my childhood at making beds the Muggle way, but now that this was no longer necessary, I pointed my wand and they rearranged themselves instantly to look as perfect as if a house-elf had been ironing them for a fortnight.

I opened the top drawer of my bedside chest and took out the Christmas gift I had bought for Professor Slughorn with my saved galleons. The small golden clock ticked gently as I lifted it onto the shiny green wrapping paper, and with another deft flick of my wand, the package neatly wrapped itself, a silver bow appearing from nowhere, and securing itself to the top.

Picking it up, I left the dormitory, going up several flights of stone steps until I reached the common room. I tapped the stone that would reveal the exit, stepping out and heading for Professor Slughorn's office.

It took longer than I had anticipated to extricate myself from Slughorn's clutches. The Potions master was in his element, a small crowd sitting on various squashy velvet armchairs and pouffes and talking loudly, mostly, I noticed, about themselves.

Predictably, Slughorn swept me over to where two of his Ministry acquaintances were knocking back firewhiskies as if they were going out of fashion.

"Timpson, Wellbelove, this is Riddle. Not that I have favourites, of course," he slurred, "Strictly impartial, you know, but he is my star pupil. I fully expect him to be joining your ranks when he leaves, though that won't be for a while yet, will it, Riddle, m'boy?"

He actually nudged me in the ribs, quite hard, and I had to steady myself or I would have overbalanced, falling headfirst onto a large purple sofa that, with Slughorn's rotund form at my elbow, was now blocking my only escape route.

The Ministry men, both of whom had long white beards and horn rimmed spectacles, gave me a cursory glance. One seemed to be slightly younger than the other, but it was the elder of the two who addressed me.

"Riddle, is it?"

"Yes, sir." I said.

"I haven't heard that name before. How old are you, young man?"

"Fifteen, sir." I replied.

"You look older", he said.

"I'm sixteen a week today." I told him. He sniffed at me,looked away, and the younger of the pair cut in;

"What does your father do, boy?"

I paused, considering my answer, but feeling the blood rise in my face.

"I…..I don't know, sir. " I said eventually.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I'm an orphan, Sir."

" So your father is dead?" the older one again.

"I don't know sir." I said again.

" But he came to Hogwarts?"

"He was a Muggle, _sir_. I understood Hogwarts had little use for them."

I heard myself say it, hating them and hating Slughorn too, for allowing me to be humiliated like this, not least, when I noticed the look of disdain on their faces and my cheeks began to burn.

I willed with all my strength that my expression remain cold and impassive, but I wanted to snarl at them and curse them to hell.

I knew that I could probably do it, too, and my left hand, my wand hand, twitched. Then, I noticed a figure, rising from the corner of the room.

Professor Dumbledore stood, his sky blue robes swirling behind him, taking a step towards the door.

"Thank you, Horace," he said, "for your charming hospitality this Christmas Eve. However, I must leave you all to enjoy the rest of your evening. Goodnight to you, Horace, and," (he gestured to the two Ministry Officials,) "to you, Aloysius, Ebenezer……and a very Merry Christmas, of course…."

"Leaving so soon, Dumbledore?" slurred Slughorn, taking another swig from the flagon he held.

"Alas, Horace, an old man must have his early nights, and Christmas Eve bears no exception."

"And Riddle," he said, looking at me unexpectedly.

" A few words with you, if I may. Come with me."

I followed him out of the stuffy office and into the cool corridor.

What did the old goat want now, I wondered. He never usually spoke to me, not after he came to the Orphanage to give me the letter……..

I blocked that scene out of my mind. I had given away too much, that day, I knew, and I vowed never to make the same mistake again.

Somewhere, deep inside, I knew that somebody like Dumbledore could be very dangerous to me. I knew I could not charm him as I did the others, he had seen me with my guard down, and although he hardly ever looked at me directly, I still couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me all the time.

Was he about to tell me he knew I had been shirking my duties as a Hogwarts prefect to spend my evenings with a Ravenclaw girl, and a known offender at that? I couldn't tell, as his expression remained impassive until we had gone out of earshot of Slughorn's magically enlarged office.

"Tom," he said, stopping, and turning to me.

"Sir?"

"You have no reason to feel shame for your origins, Tom". he said, quietly.

"I don't understand, sir.' I said.

But I did. My insides twisted uncomfortably. I knew he had seen my reaction to the Ministry men's question. I felt even more wary of him, knowing this, but he didn't say anything else, merely paused, and then, when I did not respond, he wished me a Merry Christmas, and swept away towards his own office in the Transfiguration department.

I was left standing alone in the corridor, both angry and relieved in about equal parts, but then I heard the clock chiming the hour, far away, up on one of the towers and my thoughts soon turned back to Laura. I could worry about Dumbledore and his nosing later.

I hurried back through the castle and down the stairs. Eleven o' clock. I was supposed to have met Laura at the foot of Ravenclaw tower at ten-thirty.

Blow Slughorn and Dumbledore! She was going home tomorrow morning, and the thought of not seeing her to say goodbye was unthinkable. I would grab my cloak and then, I supposed, I would have to see if I could find her in the castle.

I reached the corridor with the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room, and stopped abruptly. A figure, cloaked in blue, was leaning against the wall, lazily firing multi-coloured sparks at the ceiling with her wand.

I didn't need to find Laura. She had found me.

"Why did you stand me up, Tom?" she demanded.

"Shhhhh!" I told her, glancing around quickly to make sure nobody happened to be passing. Muttering the password, the hidden door appeared in the wall and I pulled her through after me.

We were standing in the long, low Slytherin common room. Lamps flickered with a greenish glow onto shelves upon shelves of leather bound books, and the fire, which also burned green, had died right down, making the room even darker than it normally was.

Laura took in the scene around her with a look of awe.

"Yours is very different to mine." She said, finally. "It's a bit dark, isn't it?"

"How did you know where the entrance was?" I asked her.

"Lucky guess! No, I realized that it must be near here, this is where you always come to breakfast from, and from back there (she gestured with a jerk of her thumb) the passage only goes two ways. One of them leads down to the lake, but seeing as you are usually fairly dry at breakfast, I didn't think that you slept there. So, it must have been this one. And I was right," she added, triumphantly. "Logic flawless as always! So, stand and deliver, Riddle, why did you stand me up?"

I briefly told her the story of Slughorn's party. I left out the bit about Dumbledore and the Ministry halfwits. I had no wish to relive it again, and anyway, they were none of her business. What I told her was the cleaned-up version of what I would have liked; the Ministry officials being terribly impressed with me, and myself accepting their compliments modestly, as Professor Slughorn basked in his star pupil's reflected glory.

' I thought you mayn't want to see me anymore." she said, when I had finished.

"Why?"

"I thought you'd be embarrassed if anyone found out, because I've been…..well…in trouble."

"I know." I told her. " It doesn't matter. I'll make sure you're safe as long as you're with me. You won't get caught. _We_ won't get caught."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Laura," I said. "I have been at this school for four and a half years. And…I've not been caught yet. They wouldn't even _suspect_ me." I pointed to the silver prefect's badge pinned to my robes, and smirked.

"How did they catch _you_ anyway, at your other school?" I asked, genuinely puzzled, "With your Ravenclaw comb…..?"

"I didn't have it at Beauxbatons," she confided.

"I only was allowed on my sixteenth birthday. That was three days after I got chucked out. He, I mean, my father, has no idea what it does. Father had a really hard time persuading Dippet to let me come here, but he says that the Deputy Head, Dumbledore, was really good about it. Said he believed in second chances. My father didn't mention about the other schools. He was just desperate to get rid of me."

"There were others?" I said, not being able to help myself.

"Three others. In Holland, Germany and Bulgaria. They didn't seem to like me, either. They said the same as you did, that night."

"What did I say?"

"I'm a troublemaker!" she laughed out loud quite suddenly, catching my hand and pulling me towards the door.

"Want to make some trouble?" she grinned.

I watched her, for a second, and her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling in the dim green light. She glowed, and it was infectious.

I nodded slowly.

"Yeah." I said.

O O O O O

Summoning my cloak, I let her lead as she ran up the steps two at a time, the hem of her own blue velvet cloak inches from the tip of my nose as she rushed ahead of me. We were more careful to be quiet when we reached the ground floor. She was headed towards the front doors, and I knew where our final destination would be.

"I was worried you'd be scared to." she told me.

"Scared!" I snorted. The idea was ridiculous. She obviously had no idea what I had been doing in my spare time for the past four years. Still, I reasoned, why would she? Nobody else had any idea, either, I had seen to that.

"You're going to love it…… It's worth it, you'll see." she called ahead of me, as she ran. "Worth getting expelled for, you can find them wherever there's a forest, they'll come, if you know how to call them."

I didn't ask what she meant, but I felt sure that I would soon be finding out.

As we ran across the stretch of grass at the front of the castle, the wind whipped the breath out of my mouth. Snow had begun to fall as it always did at Christmas here. It settled on the ground and crunched under my boots, not greyish and muddy, but pure white and pristine, quite unlike any snow I had ever seen in Muggle London.

We had reached the end of the stretch of grass in front of the school. I looked up at the dark sky, painted in shades of midnight blue and steely grey, then felt the warmth of Laura's smaller hand as it slipped into mine. Together, my heart beating fast, we stepped into the Forbidden Forest.

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**To be continued...**

**Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	9. Part Eight: Of Ravens And Unicorns

**Disclaimer...Not mine and stuff etc... **

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I'd just like to say a big thanks to everyone who has been nice and taken time to comment on this, especially Amadea, Valinor's Twilight and MandaPandaAR who gave me reviews last chapter. I hope this one is up to scratch...enjoy!

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**Part Eight**

**Of Ravens and Unicorns**

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**The forest was dark, full of strange sounds and curious noises. Not even the snow could penetrate here, for the trees were too dense, standing guard over this mysterious and sinister place.**

**As soon as we were out of view of the castle Laura had lit her wand, and I had done the same. She held her wand in her right hand, I in my left, and our two free hands stayed clasped together, as we stepped through the trees.**

**The forest smelt strange, musty and slightly bitter, of damp leaves, and a faint undertone of animal scent. Twigs snapped underfoot, and occasionally, we caught sight of a Bowtruckle peering out from between the leaves, its protuberant eyes orb-like and glowing white in our wandlight.**

**I was not afraid. All of my life I prided myself on the fact that I had never feared anything or indeed, anyone. We walked on, making our way further and further, deeper and deeper into the forest. **

**I wondered where we were going. What would I see? What was it that was so wonderful to this girl, so incredible, that she was prepared to risk expulsion not once, but four times so far?**

"**Laura…." I said, quietly, not wanting to talk too loud.**

"**Shhhhhh!" she turned to me, shaking her head for me not to speak, and before I could react, she was rummaging in her cloak. She pulled out what looked like a tiny flute, made of something that looked like ivory, and raised it to her lips.**

**At once, a strange and haunting melody filled the air. I could almost feel the magic, creeping around us both, swirling and weaving through the black trees, and then Laura had raised her hand, and I could see she was pointing. Pointing towards something moving, something gleaming white and gold….**

**Something alive, in the small clearing not far away from where we were standing.**

"**Unicorns…?" I breathed.**

**O O O O O**

**There were four of them, there in the clearing. Three adults, their coats shining silver-white like the snow that still glistened on my shoulders. Beside them, nuzzled into the creature I assumed was its mother, was a single foal, shimmering golden all over its delicate body, and quite beautiful.**

**Laura had stepped forward as one of the beasts looked up, tossing its magnificent head. From where I stood, still half-hidden in the shadows of the forest, I could see the creatures eying me warily.**

**Laura was making a curious clicking noise with her mouth. She was edging closer to the unicorns, and to my surprise, they allowed her to approach.**

**I watched as she lowered her wand, stowing it away inside her blue velvet cloak.**

**She was still making those peculiar, clicking, crooning noises, when, suddenly, the largest of the three adults, moved suddenly and trotted over to her.**

**To my utter amazement, it pushed its long, silvery muzzle into the crook of her arm, and whinnied affectionately.**

**It appeared that the largest unicorn was the leader of the group, for once he had approached Laura, the others followed. **

**They too trotted over to her, making small noises of welcome, as she stroked and patted them. Even the baby unicorn let her run her hand along its cheek and rub its soft, golden chin, as she knelt close.**

**I watched, my wand still raised, as she petted the creatures, but then, when it seemed they had finished greeting her, she looked back over at me, and slowly, so as not to startle the unicorns, she gestured for me to join her in the clearing.**

**I hesitated, the animals had seen her wave in my direction and were once more fixing me with a look of extreme trepidation.**

**I untangled my cloak from my legs, and stepped out of the trees, as quietly as I could.**

**I still held my wand aloft, and the second smallest of the unicorns snorted and shied away.**

"**Put your wand away, Tom." Laura whispered, urgently.**

**At that moment, I would sooner have spent the evening allowing Professor Dumbledore to perform Legilimency on me than lower my wand in the presence of three, large, powerful and extremely mistrustful magical creatures. However, I had to admit that I was curious, so I opened my cloak and jacket, sliding my wand into my sleeve so it was still to hand should I need it quickly.**

**Unicorns were, according to the books I had read, possessed of extraordinary powers, their tail hairs used in the cores of wands, (and I guessed that one may have indeed provided the core of Laura's) but more importantly, their silver blood had uses in many Dark Rituals and spells, could even bring the drinker back from the brink of death.**

**I did not mention such things lest Laura mistrust me, with the knowledge of her precious creatures, but I knew the knowledge could prove invaluable in future, and I should seize my opportunity as here it was presented so well. So I moved closer, wand down, and tentatively, I stretched out my fingers to the mane of the largest creature. **

**Its fur was so impossibly soft, it felt like I touched nothing but warm, silken air, and I was encouraged when the animal did not move away, but stood still, illuminated and ethereal in the moonlight. I did not know what Laura had in mind then, but I soon found out.**

"**He seems to like you, Tom". she murmured, leaving the golden foal's side. She slipped her arms around my waist from behind and kissed the back of my neck, standing on tiptoe as she always had to. I turned to her, eager to deepen the kiss, and then, before I could stop her, she took my arm, pointed me towards the largest unicorn and said:**

"**I suppose….yes…….."**

"**What?" I asked, unsure.**

"**He's allowing you to ride him, that's really lucky-look!" she said joyfully.**

**The huge silver white beast I had been stroking had bent its strong hind legs, as if to allow a rider to climb on. **

**I gaped.**

"**Seriously….you mean…?" I asked.**

"**Go on, Tom!" she urged me, eyes shining. "You'll love it…….go on!"**

**So I did. Drawing a breath in and steeling myself, I swung my left leg over that magnificent creature, and curled my fingers around its glistening mane.**

**On my other side I could see Laura out of the corner of my eye, as she mounted one of the others leaving mother and foal together in the clearing.**

"**Hold tight.." she called back to me, but her words were whipped away by the wind.**

**Laura shot past me on a Unicorn's back, dark hair streaming with a flash of Ravenclaw silver, and away and onward, into the night air and beyond my view.**

**And before I could catch my breath, my own mount followed suit and we were racing blind into the depths of the Forbidden Forest. **

**O O O O O**

**I could not believe there could ever have been a feeling such as this. It was Christmas Eve and the snow billowed and swirled and swarmed over the treetops, and my heart and lungs seemed so full they would surely burst if we didn't slow down, exalted, magnificent, glorious and terrified all at the same second, all at the same time.**

**I could no longer see Laura up ahead of me. I grasped the silken mane of the Unicorn, lay flat to his shimmering torso and dug in my heels.**

"**Faster!" screamed my mind, crazily. "Faster!" And as if the beast could somehow know my thoughts, faster we went, faster and faster and onward, on and on..at almost the speed of sound, snow in my eyes and pricking my face. the wind howling in my ears, whipping through the holes in my threadbare cloak and then, then, we were out of the forest and beyond the boundaries of the school.**

**O O O O O **

**Laura was silhouetted against the dark amber glow of a rising dawn in winter. Her mount had ceased all movement, and stood perfectly still as my own steed slowed to a trot and we approached.**

**We stood together, Laura and I, on those incredibly powerful and beautiful beasts, on the cliff top beyond Hogwarts, and we stared out at the sea.**

**We did not break the silence, she simply reached out her hand to me and smiled, as we watched the sky change from black to darkest blue, and the reflection of the moon over the freezing North Sea.**

**We stayed like that until the unicorns became restless, and we knew it was time to turn back, for it was Christmas Day.**

**All was silent as we made our way down to the Slytherin Dungeons, my heart beating in my ears. I didn't ask her, but we passed by her turning, and she did not kiss me goodbye as she usually did, but walked onwards, holding my hand, her fingers tight in mine. The agreement was unspoken, hanging in the air, like something tangible, something I could reach out and touch. **

**I led the way through the dark common room and down the staircase to my dormitory, pulling her quickly into the room.**

**I paused only to draw my wand and to lock the door behind us.

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**To be continued...**

**A/N...Thank you for reading...and for getting this far! **

**Oh dear...I am feeling sorry for the unicorns in the forest already...having read Philosopher's Stone...**

**Please review!**


	10. Part Nine: Meeting Aster Ames

**Disclaimer: Not mine... etc.**

**Thank you so much to those who left me a review last chapter...very much appreciated and I love to know what you think.**

**Some Horcrux spotting now... **

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Chapter Nine

**Meeting Aster Ames

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**I'm dreaming.**

**The dream is truly wonderful, and I don't want to wake up just yet. It's Christmas morning, and I'm lying in bed, semi-decent, but so _warm_. Beside me there's a princess with long, dark hair, and she's stroking my hair and kissing my face, and murmuring to me as she does it.**

**"Goodbye, Tom," she whispers. She's got a slight French accent, it sounds, well……foreign, and _what_ is a girl doing in my room anyway..?**

**I open my eyes, trying to focus, and I wake up properly.**

**Grey eyes come into focus, but it isn't Abraxas back early, no, thank the Gods. These eyes are softer and darker, framed with thick black lashes, a pale heart-shaped face.**

**"Laura……" I mumble, pulling her down sleepily for another kiss.**

**"I have to go, Tom. Father, you know. It's five past seven."**

**"Please don't." I say, still half asleep. Hell, it was worth a try. Anything.**

**She laughed.**

**"You know I have to!"**

**"Stay here…….." I grabbed her wrist and she overbalanced, landing on top of me, fully clothed.**

**"I can't." she said, after a deep, long kiss.**

**I sighed, released her. She went to the door, put her hand on the brass handle.**

**"Where are you going?" I say**

**"Home." She answered. "You know that."**

**"Is it safe, then, in France? I thought it was occupied?" I rubbed the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand and rolled over to see her more clearly.**

**"Occupied?" She looked blank.**

**"The war."**

**"But we are witches and wizards, aren't we?" she answered, smiling.**

**"Meaning……?" I raised an eyebrow at her.**

**"Meaning they…..well….they don't notice us, shall I say?"**

**"I see."**

**"I really have to go now, Tom." she said. "Goodbye."**

**She came back towards me, and kissed me again, quickly. Then, before I could speak, she had closed the door behind her, and all I could hear were her footsteps walking away from the door.**

**I lay there, just thinking, for a few minutes. Somewhere inside me, there was a crazy urge to race after her and bring her back. I didn't, though. I supposed that I should be grateful for what I had, though because at first she told me she only meant to stay in my dorm for an hour or so. I could be very persuasive, though, and eventually she weakened, as I knew she would.**

**We'd talked for a while, the conversation eventually giving way to an intense kissing session (for they had been growing more and more intense, these past few weeks). She had slipped my shirt off of my shoulders, the feeling of her soft hands on my bare skin something so new and different from anything before that I shuddered with the sensation, and had to reassure her I that was all right. This was, however, soon forgotten when I was cursing every single catch and recalcitrant button on female undergarments...**

**This was one occasion, however, that I did not get my own way of things, because before long, arms and bodies entwined within the drawn drapes, and worn out with our exertions in the forest, we had both fallen asleep. Now, she had gone back to France and left me alone.**

**O O O O O**

**Alone.**

**Being by myself had never concerned me , before. Now, for the first time, I felt a deep ache inside myself, something odd, that I couldn't place and couldn't explain.**

**I wasn't sure I entirely liked it, either, but I must have drifted off again, probably through lack of sleep the night before, because the next thing I heard was the booming voice of Professor Slughorn.**

**O O O O O**

**Evidently, Slughorn had finally managed to shake off his hangover enough to wish a Merry Christmas to the poor orphan boy, and he did so loudly and jovially, dragging me rudely up from under a thousand tons of sleep and pleasant fantasies.**

**"Riddle! Up you get, m'boy! It's Christmas!" he cried, impatiently.**

**I pulled the covers up before he could notice that I had slept in my black school trousers, flecked with mud from the forest ride, and unfastened from other causes..**

**"Sir?" I mumbled, gingerly opening one eye.**

**I tried not to outwardly wince at the horrific sight that swam into my line of vision. Slughorn was clad in a green velvet Father Christmas outfit that appeared to be several sizes too small. He was holding a large bag of Honeydukes sweets which he proceeded to dump onto my midriff, making me gasp suddenly for air.**

**"Thank you….. Sir…." I said, putting on the most charming and polite tone that I could muster under the circumstances, and trying hard not to gape, that would be rude, after all.**

**Slughorn, however, seemed nonchalant of his bizarre appearance if he had noticed at all, and continued to boom at me.**

**"Up you get now, Tom! Look sharp, it's Christmas Day!"**

**I hauled myself up at last into some semblance of a sitting position, Slughorn was indicating some small wrapped parcels at the foot of my bed. Actually, the pile looked slightly larger than usual. 'Hmm...', I mused sardonically. Perhaps I had an extra thick book from Professor Dippet…."1001 uses for Flobberworms" or some such delight, I just knew.**

**It was always the same. Always.**

**Slughorn crossed the room and placed a fat hand on the brass doorknob.**

**"I'll see you in twenty minutes then, Tom. A nice hearty, festive breakfast, eh?"**

**He took out a slim, silver pocket watch that appeared to have no hands, considered it for a moment, and opened the dormitory door to leave.**

**"Aha! He'll be here now. Must be off, Riddle, m'boy. Old friend coming to pick up his daughter. Great businessman. Thought I'd see him for a chat about old times and such. Networking, I believe they call it, you know."**

**He winked roguishly at me from the doorway. I knew what he meant. He always liked to keep in the good books of the successful, powerful and influential. And I was under no illusions that he'd have even looked at me, orphan or no, had I been an average student, with average looks and average marks. Then suddenly, I realised what he had actually said and felt my stomach jolt.**

**"Who is it, Sir? Your friend?" I asked, carefully adopting a light, casual tone.**

**Slughorn looked slightly surprised.**

**"Well, you won't know the daughter well, though she's in your Potions class, Tom. Average, you know. I can't say I've seen you two speak. Ravenclaw, hasn't been here long..."**

**He leaned towards me confidentially. "Expelled, you see. From Beauxbatons. She's given him more trouble than he deserves. Such a pity, I knew his boys well, good, hardworking, all three of them. Talented, you know, quite something, not like the girl. All Aurors. Died fighting Grindelwald's mob. A tragedy, Tom, a terrible tragedy. Poor old Ames, he was quite beside himself.."**

**"Ames?" I said.**

**"Aster Ames." Slughorn said, with a flourish. "The finest supplier of Magical Creature based potion ingredients in the whole of Europe. Ravens, unicorns, even a dragon or two, or so I heard. Keeps them all, on his farm in France. Lucky for me, Tom, you understand, for those rarer ingredients! But I must dash, or he'll be off again, he's always busy. Fifteen minutes!" he called down the stairs and I sat there, amazed.**

**Slughorn knew Laura's father.**

**This wasn't something she had ever mentioned, though I supposed as it was clear that he was following Aster Ames lead in having little or no interest in her as a person on her own merit, then why would she?**

**Three minutes later, I was running up the stairs like a madman, out of the dungeons after Slughorn, hoping to see Laura before she left.**

**I got my wish, for as I stood, catching my breath as it billowed white in the cold on the front steps, I saw a carriage drawn by four grey horses winding it's way up the drive. The carriage stopped and a man got down and began to walk towards the school.**

**This man was small and thin, sporting a small moustache that was unpleasantly reminiscent of the cartoon pictures of Adolf Hitler that were springing up all over Muggle London. Indeed, his dark grey hair looked oily, shining and slicked back from his forehead, beneath which sharp black eyes and an even sharper nose were placed.**

**Those eyes fixed themselves upon me, or so I thought, but as he approached me , he gestured me aside with a condescending:**

**"Out of my way, boy."**

**He swept past me. He was much shorter than I was, but he looked far too old to be the father of a sixteen year old, older even than Professor Dippet. I turned angrily to hear him say, in the same thick French accent:**

**"Laura."**

**"Hello, Father. I'm glad you could come."**

**Laura was standing on the stairs in the entrance hall. Her hair was swept up tidily and she wasn't wearing her silver comb, though I was willing to bet it was somewhere on her person.**

**She looked beautiful, in robes of a soft silver grey and thrown over these , her blue velvet cloak from the night I had met her on the Astronomy tower . She was oddly flushed, and I could guess at the reason, for her eyes were not looking at Aster Ames. They had drifted over his shoulder and were resting on me, surprised, a little worried, but still, they had a knowing depth to them, something only she and I knew, a secret, our secret., and I felt a stirring somewhere inside myself.**

**"Good morning, Tom." She said, nervously. Polite and formal. How-do-you-do, Mr Riddle.**

**I didn't answer her, but looked back at her as if daring her to continue the charade.**

**"Laura, you are late." said Aster Ames, impatiently, as she kissed him on both cheeks.**

**Laura said something to him in French that sounded vaguely apologetic, and let him lead her past me, away.**

**I stood and watched her go, angrily, but my anger more directed at her arrogant, disapproving father. A curse or two would do Aster Ames good, I decided.**

**'Who is zat boy hanging around the hall?" I heard him ask her as they walked to the carriage.**

**"Tom Riddle, Father. He's really clever, you know. Top of every class."**

**"Riddle? Horace Slughorn's favourite orphan, no?" Ames gave a derisive laugh, and looked back at me contemptuously. Laura was silent.**

**"He is not a friend of yours, I 'ope? I should not want another reason for you to disappoint me, Laura. You know there are so many, already."**

**It was a fortunate thing at that moment for Professor Slughorn himself to appear.**

**"Aster, it's been too long!" he boomed, from the portico.**

**Ames gave Slughorn a steely and somewhat insincere smile but Slughorn did not seem to notice, and swept him off to the carriage for a 'chat' as he called it.**

**Laura was left standing in the courtyard. I watched as she looked quickly behind her to make sure her father and Slughorn were safely out of sight, then ran over to me and kissed me hard, on the mouth.**

**"I'll write." she said, breathlessly, before dashing back across the gravel drive and climbing into the carriage.**

**I returned to my dormitory some time later. My small pile of parcels were still there, unopened, lying at the foot of my bed.**

**The top one was from Abraxas. I opened it, and out fell a box of Bertie Bott's beans.**

**I thought this odd, as Abraxas knew very well that I hated the things, having never been in a position to develop a sweet tooth. I picked them up suspiciously, and sure enough, the writing began to shift and change, the package growing taller and thinner, flimsy cardboard turning to cool glass under my palm.**

**I must say I was surprised that Abraxas had actually managed to pull off the disguising charm that I had shown him months ago, and I knew that he himself would probably drink the stuff anyway. I never let my guard down. Well, almost never. I shoved the bottle under the bed and regarded the other packages disdainfully.**

**The same predictable tat as last year. Like I said, it was always the same. Sweets from Professors Slughorn, (Potions) Merrythought (Defence Against the Dark Arts) and Flitwick, the Charms master who seemed to have me firmly cast in the role of the ill-fortuned hero. Maybe Laura would like them. I smiled, my insides glowing as I remembered how she had kissed me with her father just feet away.**

**I unwrapped and discarded Headmaster Dippet's customary book (Magical Fish And How To Breed Them Successfully.) I had no idea what on earth could have possibly given Dippet the impression that I craved the opportunity to read about magical fish, let alone attempt to breed them.**

**My 'present' from the orphanage had been forwarded as usual, this year it was a small book, thin and bound in black. On the front in gold lettering was inscribed '1943'.**

**A diary. I turned it over and saw that it had been bought from the newsagents in the Vauxhall Road, a few doors down from the Orphanage. I guessed all the others had one too, and I threw it onto the bedside stand.. I never wrote in them.**

**The last present wasn't wrapped in paper, but in a clean handkerchief, pale blue and lace edged. An illuminated L was embroidered in one corner.**

**For the first time that morning I felt excited, I wanted to see what she had given me.**

**Slipping off the thin fabric of the handkerchief, I found myself holding a thin, silver flute, no bigger than my forefinger. I held it up, recognising the similarity from the one Laura had the night before, and then the note fluttered out, written on parchment in elegant cursive.**

**_"My spare.Use after dark!"_**

_**'L'**_

**I hid the flute at the back of the trunk with the note, waiting for the right time to use it, and then, without thinking, I slipped the handkerchief into my pocket and went upstairs.

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**To be continued...**

**A/N A little misplaced trust there, I think...and what a nasty snarky Dad she has! Reviews loved and wanted...thank you for reading!**


	11. Part Ten: The Happiest Birthday

**Disclaimer: Yes...not mine, none of it...**

**Warning: Here and thereafter I earn my M rating for sexual situations, sensitive issues and various degrees of evil. Please don't read if this may offend, but hey, it's a Voldemort story, so what can one expect! I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.**

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**Part Ten**

**The Happiest Birthday**

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**Days went by, though, and Laura did not write. I thought once or twice of sending one of the school owls ,but immediately thought better of it when I pictured Aster Ames raging at her. Besides, I had no idea whether it would even get there. The Muggles were still fighting each other, and apparently France was badly affected.**

**I had brought with me from the Orphanage all my possessions, one of which was a Muggle wireless that I had bewitched to find any station, Muggle or Wizarding, no matter where you were in the world. I had taken it out of my trunk when I had hidden Abraxas' Firewhisky. **

**Sometimes, I would listen to the Muggle news to find out what was happening with the war. Now, I thought about putting some music on, or going to study in the Library like I usually did, but I found for he first time in my life that I had no enthusiasm for any of these things.**

**So I lay on my bed looking at the ceiling just thinking about her and what she might be doing and why she never wrote and it was in much the same way that I passed the next day too, listlessly wondering how I was going to make it until she came back for the new term on January 10th and realising that was a whole eleven days away, and that I was lonely, yes…….lonely, and tomorrow would be New Years Eve, my sixteenth birthday.**

**O O O O O**

**I received nothing, as I expected. It was so soon after Christmas, and nobody ever remembered that I had a birthday too. I didn't even have a card. I tried not to care, telling myself that I did not need such foolish tokens of love and acceptance.**

**As a little boy, I would invent stories about my mother. I would make myself a birthday card from some scrap paper and sign it "To Tom, our beloved son, with love from Mother and Father."**

**I would stay awake staring into the dark listening for the sounds of Big Ben inside the clock at Westminster, chiming the midnight hour.**

**Blowing out my guttering candle and making a wish.**

**Happy Birthday...**

**I had kept all the cards until the day I first found out the truth about my father. After that, I threw them on the fire, where they belonged.**

**I thought that Professor Slughorn at least would remember me, but I hadn't seen him since Boxing Day. And I thought about Laura, Laura who knew my Birthday was on New Years's Eve.**

**"It's supposed to be bad luck, you know." she had said, only half-joking, as she pored over her Astronomy homework one night in the library, when everyone else but the two of us had gone to bed. "It's meant to be a time of darkness, a time of death, before the coming of the new…that is, the New Year. It says so in this book I read."**

**"What book?" I questioned.**

**"Oh, over that way.." she gestured towards the Restricted Section.**

**"It was a lot of mumbo jumbo, mostly. Magick Moste Evile, I think it was called."**

**"What were you doing reading that?" I pressed**

**"I read everything." she grinned, and refused to discuss it for the rest of the evening.**

**That thought jogged my memory, though, and soon I was heading towards the empty library. I was entrusted to study there alone, and I headed straight for the restricted section. It took me quite a while to locate the book that Laura had mentioned, and I was just beginning to conclude that she must have made a mistake, when I spotted it, a squat, dark green volume at floor level.**

**Bending down, I slid it from the shelf. I turned to the contents page. There were a few strange symbols that I didn't understand, like hieroglyphics, and some Latin words that I roughly translated as:**

**"Evil is power. Power survives all."**

**I scanned the list of chapters, my eyes reading:**

**"1 …….To Punishe Thine Enemy"**

**"2.…….The Killing Curse"**

**"3.……..Rites of Blood"**

**"4.……..Secrets of the Necromancer"**

**"5.……..The Inferi."**

**"6.……..Omens and Portentes of Evile"**

**"7.……..In Search of Immortality"**

**and finally**

**"8.……Afterwords and Warninges"**

**Glancing around to ensure I was definitely alone, I turned the pages over and over.**

**I found Chapter Eight. Turning back, I found Chapter Six. But Chapter Seven wasn't there. A jagged edge and a gap in the binding told their own story. Someone had torn out the whole chapter . Any reference to the secrets of cheating death had been obliterated from the book-perhaps…and most likely, I knew, from the whole library.**

**O O O O O**

**I closed the book and replaced it on the shelf, heading back down to the dungeons.When I finally reached the portrait hole, and entered the long, dimly lit room, I sensed something was different. I walked slowly down the room to the stairs that led to the dorm. Pointing my wand, the door clicked open, and then I saw...**

**Dressed all in black, and sitting on my bed, hugging her knees as her dress hung over the side of the bed, was a small female figure.**

**"Hello." said Laura.**

**She stood up and I couldn't help grinning in spite of myself when she flung her arms around my neck and kissed me.**

**I swung her up into my arms - she only came up to my shoulder, and blurted out the first thing that came into my head.**

**"How in Hell did you get in here!"**

**"You and your Muggle expressions!" she laughed, not seeing the shadow pass across my face at her innocent remark.**

**"I got in through the door like you do, anyway. Don't sound too pleased to see me!" She pulled away a little, but I pulled her back.**

**"I am pleased, of course I am. But I thought you weren't back until..."**

**"January 10th, yes. Well, I was.Or should that be I wasn't? Anyway... let's say, Father barely tolerates me at the best of times, so I gave him a few more reasons not to want me around. Besides, he has a guest for New Year. So I came back. He couldn't wait to get rid of me. And Tom…..happy birthday! Now we can celebrate all by ourselves!"**

**"How did you open the portrait?" I pressed, curiosity getting the better of me.**

**She laughed again and picked up her cloak, waving it under my nose. Somehow, she had removed the Ravenclaw badge and in its place was an emblem of darkest green, two serpents entwined on the face, like the badge upon my own cloak.**

**"I'm an honourary serpent." she grinned again, showing the chipped tooth on the right side of her front teeth.**

**"You could be. Where did you find that badge?" I questioned, with undisguised admiration at her cunning.**

**"Sluggy's office. I …ah…borrowed it.." she said, darkly.**

**"I had to give him a message when I got back and ..well, he was busy, anyway. And I heard you say the password the other night. So I thought I'd visit."**

**She poked the badge with her wand and at once it unstitched itself. She put it into the pocket of her cloak, and produced her Ravenclaw badge, re-stitching it, no doubt, with the same charm she'd used for the bogus one.**

**"I appreciate it." I said , as I watched her.**

**" And….. Laura?"**

**"Mhmm?" she answered, still looking at the cloak.**

**"That's a pretty dress."**

**She looked up then, surprised, and a little flushed.**

**"Thank you." she said. I could see her eyes sparkle in the dim light. Perhaps this would be a good birthday, after all.**

**I moved her back over to the bed with me, taking a closer look at the dress she had on. I hadn't seen her wear anything like it before, it was low cut and long and it fitted in all the right places, from the curves of her breast to the slight swell of her hip, and sitting down on the edge of the four poster, I turned her to face me.**

**She kissed me again and her fingers trailed through my hair and over the nape of my neck. I could feel a growing knot in the pit of my stomach and I snaked my fingers under the long silk skirt, both hands touching her legs, right up to the thigh, inside. They were soft and warm and smooth. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to be closer. Needed.**

**"Come here," I muttered.**

**O O O O O**

**The sheets were cool and clean, but I was burning up.**

**My back hit them naked, my shirt on the floor, braces unbuttoned and thrown after it, next to a puddle of liquid black silk. I bit my lip as her teeth grazed my throat and I heard myself make an odd noise at the sensation…it wasn't pleasure……. but it didn't hurt.**

**I never touched that Firewhisky Abraxas sent, but I _was_ drunk. Drunk on lust and love and desire, and _happy_. She wanted me. She _wanted me_…. . I wished I could shout that from the bloody rooftops. I wouldn't have though. It's my secret. Mine to keep. Like her.**

**Laura held onto me and I turned over. She sat across my hips, she was warm and I knew now there wasn't any going back from there, not from that point. I knew that she must have been able to feel me too, and quite suddenly, I could not look at her.**

**"Are you sure?" she whispered, close to my ear. She must have noticed me tense, then, but I nodded.**

**"You're not shy are you?" I heard the smile in her voice.**

**"I don't think so.' I whispered**

**She laid down next to me and I turned to face her at last.**

**"I'm sort of scared, too, you know." she mumbled, very fast.**

**"I'm never scared." I said.**

**O O O O O**

**It was not the slightest bit how I had imagined it. Not like Mrs Cole's cheap love stories, or any made up feverish schoolboy fantasy.**

**It was hot and it was sweaty and the sheets were bunched up somewhere near the head board. We rolled this way and that, kissing with tongues, and fingers, hands touching wherever, until I ended up on top, and she lay underneath me, hair over the pillow, dark satin. I reached out, pushed it away from her face, and at the same time I pushed with my hips and at last… it was done.**

**She made a low cry of pain, tensed up in an instant and I stopped abruptly, still inside. But her hand, on the small of my back, pressed insistently.**

**"Don't stop..." I heard her say, faintly, against my throat.**

**Something soft was in the way, but as I moved, it parted. There was a wet rush that I suspected would be dark and bloody, and then I was deep inside.**

**I held my breath, and I pushed again, harder this time, just a little, pulled back and moved some more, careful and uncertain and slow. She made a small noise in the back of her throat and wrapped her leg up across my waist, pulling me in. I bit my lip hard and tasted blood on my tongue as I continued to move, concentration but an afterthought. I knew I wasn't going to last long. Oh God.**

**I let go- finally, just before she did too, giving a faint cry into my shoulder….scratching my back with her fingernails so hard that I thought there must surely be pain, but I never felt it come, just the strange squirming throbbing in my stomach, the full-body sensation that made my arms buckle and my breath stick in my lungs.**

**I collapsed onto her, catching her lips in one last kiss before we both slept.**

**She's mine now, she must have known this. We couldn't go back now.**

**O O O O O**

**Later and I knew it would be dark outside. We must have missed dinner, but nobody came looking, so we just laid there in each others arms, not really thinking or talking. It was getting cold, and I pulled up the blankets because I thought Laura must be asleep.**

**I reached down and found my wand where it lay amongst various discarded clothing on the floor, and pointed it at the skylight, which opened at my command. I rummaged in the top drawer of my bedside table and pulled out the cigarettes I had hidden there, my shameful Muggle habit.**

**Abraxas Malfoy's bed was directly under the skylight, so I sat there, ignited the Muggle cigarette with my wizard's wand and puffed blue smoke towards the black sky outside.**

**Happy Birthday, I said to myself, quietly, and Laura turned over in her sleep.**

**"Happy Birthday Tom," she murmured, and smiled with her eyes closed.**

**O O O O O**

**A/N: Laura was sixteen on October 3rd, 1942, so she's actually slightly older than Tom. The legal age of consent in Britain, in 1942 was 16 for girls. No age of consent existed for boys at that time.**

**Thank you for reading. Please review.**


	12. Part Eleven: Auld Lang Syne

**Disclaimer: Yep. Not mine. Just having fun.**

**Long chapter! **

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**Part Eleven**

**Auld Lang Syne**

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**"What's your home like?" I asked her, the next morning, as we lay in each other's arms.**

**"Frightful!" Laura answered, with a wry grin.**

**"No, seriously….it's only Father that's frightful. I know I shouldn't say that-but" she paused "Sometimes , I really hate him."**

**"I understand."**

**"But the farm's lovely, I love being with the animals.That's where I spend all my time…..getting away from father!"**

**"What kind of animals?" I asked her**

**"Unicorns, obviously," she grinned, knowingly. That's how I know…..things. And phoenixes, three of those, and some ravens, too, though they aren't as rare, of course. Four dragons, a mother and three babies.Dad got those from Wales when we left seven or eight years ago, he breeds them. Cats and Kneazles, they live together quite happily. Oh, and snakes."**

**"You have snakes?"**

**She nodded.**

**"Lots. One of them is really rare, too, from Albania. I like them, but Father doesn't. But people pay thirty galleons for a bottle of their venom, so he has them for the money they bring in. What he's wanted for a while is to find a Parselmouth, to look after them. You know, someone who can speak to them. Find out what they need. But they are really rare too. Parselmouths, that is."**

**"I can speak to snakes." I said.**

**"Yes, of course, Tom. Don't be silly. Anyway….Father said……"**

**"I _can_ speak to snakes." I repeated.**

**Her brows furrowed.She looked mildly irritated, and obviously didn't believe me.**

**"You're making fun of me." she said, finally.**

**"Of course I'm not." I told her. " I'm telling the truth."**

**"How do you _know_?" she asked, after a long pause.**

**"We used to go on an outing, once a year, with the Orphanage. Usually to the sea, and I'd always go off by myself."**

**"Poor lonely Tom." Laura said, stroking my hair back where it had fallen over my forehead. I shook my head.**

**"Not really. I hated all the Muggles anyway. And they found me, the snakes, that is. They whispered to me."**

**"That's odd."she said, thoughtfully.**

**"Father says he's only ever met one real Parselmouth. And that was when he was living down in Somerset in 1903, just after Christoph, my oldest brother, was born. He is..sorry.. was… twenty-three years older than me. The Parselmouth was a strange old man, a Pureblood, descended from Salazar Slytherin himself. But he was quite crazy, father said. He felt sorry for his poor wife. She was always black and blue."**

**My heart began to beat fast.**

**"What was his name? Do you remember?"**

**"Yes, it was a funny name. Gaunt. Marvolo Gaunt."**

**"My grandfather." I said quietly. I opened my trunk,rifling around until right at the very bottom, I found it. My birth certificate. Tom Marvolo Riddle, it announced in faded sepia script. Born: Vauxhall, London, 31st December 1926. 11.13pm. Mother-Unknown. Father-Unknown.**

**"What's this?" she asked.**

**I pointed to the name 'Marvolo'.**

**"Muggle birth certificate. Obviously, I wouldn't have one from the Ministry, would I? But I know it's him. They told me at the Orphanage it was my mother's father's name. And there's only ever been one Marvolo at Hogwarts. I checked. So I know."**

**"Oh." She said quietly.**

**"I'm sorry…..I didn't mean….."**

**"It's all right." I said, quickly " I haven't met him, I just found out from a book of old wizarding lineage. I was trying to find my father."**

**"And did you?"**

**"No." I said, shortly. " I'm a half-blood, remember. Marvolo Gaunt was my mother's father. My father was no wizard. He was just a worthless Muggle. Filth, you know."**

**"As your father would no doubt agree." I added, unnecessarily.**

**She looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment, but then, her eyes grew wide.**

**"That means, then," she said, with wonder.**

**"That means, that you are related to Salazar Slytherin."**

**"Yes." I said. "Yes, it does."**

**"Funny I should end up with you, isn't it?" she laughed.**

**"Of all the people in this school, it had to be you!"**

**I nodded. I was only half joking.**

**A noise in the common room upstairs made me start suddenly.**

**I wondered if it was Professor Slughorn popping in, to charitably wish the orphan a Happy New Year. I had my wand out and ready to cast a disillusionment charm, but no footsteps came thumping down the stone steps, and slowly, I lowered it.**

**"I thought perhaps Professor Slughorn…." I muttered, noticing Laura's look of alarm.**

**"Slughorn?" Laura said " He's not here. I forgot to tell you."**

**"Where is he, then?" I questioned.**

**"You know I said Father had a guest?" her eyes glinted in triumph. "Well, Sluggy's Father's guest! I made sure to mention that Slughorn spoke _very_ highly of him, then went on to mention how terribly _strict_ he is with our form, and how much homework he always gives us."  
She affected Aster Ames thick, French accent:**

**"'Slug'orn, e' 'as the right idea.' he said. And he invited him to stay for a while. It's rather _convenient_, don't you think?"**

**I was thrilled at her deviousness, not least for all the possibilities it opened up. We could be alone for almost a fortnight-the teachers all trusted me , well, almost all, and none of them would come down to Slytherin if there was only me here-or so they thought. I could do as I liked. And I would.**

**"Anyway," Laura was saying to me " They were last seen with several bottles of Finest Oak Matured Mead. Empty. They were rattling on about the banned subjects at Hogwarts, and how Dippet and Dumbledore are too uptight about the Dark Arts. And then Father started on about Durmstrang and how it's so much better, which led onto how I shamed him by getting thrown out. It's his favourite story, I think. I had to get away."**

**"What subjects are banned at Hogwarts?" I asked, curiously.**

**"Oh, just Dark Arts stuff. Probably the news in the Prophet that started it."**

**"What news?"**

**She looked uncomfortable, and continued in hushed tones:**

**"Slughorn told Father that he thinks Grindelwald's made a Horcrux." she said. " He says it explains why he keeps coming back, like he's immortal, why he could kill so many Aurors. I know nothing about them, aside from that, as far as I gather, they're not a good thing. Slughorn seems to be quite the authority, though, but they shut the door of my father's study where he keeps all his private stuff I'm not allowed to see, and imperturbed it, so I couldn't hear any more. Interesting, though."**

**"Very." I agreed, storing this information away in my mind, for later use.**

**"Wouldn't it be wonderful to never die?" I asked her, after a while.**

**"Why?" she said,turning to look at me.**

**"You could just go on , keep becoming more and more powerful. You could have more and more control. I could become the greatest Sorcerer in the world.**

**"Grindelwald isn't great, he's just evil." Laura retorted.**

**"But to live forever?"**

**"You'd get tired."**

**"I wouldn't get tired. Not if I could live forever."**

**She was silent. I put my arms around her and listened to her breathing for the longest time. Eventually, I said, softly:**

**"What do _you_ want to do, then?"**

**I felt her smile.**

**"I want……." She paused.**

**"Yes?"**

**"I want to be happy," she said, "I want to have a farm, like where I live now, but my own, and I want to see everything there is to see, in the world, somehow. But most of all, I want to have someone to share it with. I've never had that. That's what I want."**

**"You've got me." I said.**

**She sat up suddenly, and seized both of my hands.**

**"What's _your_ home like?" she demanded.**

**"You know what my home is like." I told her. " It's a horrible cold building full of bloody Muggles."**

**"Not the Orphanage. Muggle London. I want to see it for myself."**

**"You want _what_?"**

**"I want to go to Muggle London."**

**"There's a war on." I told her. "It's not safe."**

**"You go back," she countered. "Every summer."**

**"_I_ have special permission from the Ministry to use magic in the holidays because of the War." I said. "They take the underage Wizard warnings off of my wand. I can do as I like in the holidays, magic and all. So I'm perfectly safe."**

**"So you can protect me, can't you?" she said, coyly. "Please, Tom?"**

**I looked at her, and she looked back at me with her wide grey eyes. I recalled her hands down my back, her soft cry as she lay in my arms, how she felt last night, how I felt.**

**"You will need to change your dress." I said, at last.**

**O O O O O**

**I told her to meet me at the foot of Ravenclaw tower after breakfast.**

**When I swept into the hall to eat, she was at the Ravenclaw table wearing regulation school robes and picking at a grapefruit half.**

**As was now our custom, we did not acknowledge each other apart from the occasional looks across the two neighbouring tables, and she was busy, anyway, talking with a few other Ravenclaws who had stayed. She left quickly, though, and so did I.**

**I returned to my dorm and heaved the trunk out from under the bed. Pushing aside the pieces of assorted junk, my fingers closed upon a shabby grey wool coat, the one I always wore to Kings Cross Station. I took it out and also withdrew the box that held my gas mask.I knew I didn't need it, but walking in London without it would draw attention from the wardens. Laura would need one too. I drew my wand, and muttered an incantation. Silver smoke wound around the wand and formed itself into the shape of the first box, solidifying before me.**

**I put on the coat, frowning at my reflection in the long mirror at the end of the room as I fastened the buttons, threw my cloak over the top, lest I meet anyone, and went to find Laura.**

**After a few alterations to her clothing with my wand, we found ourselves trudging through thick snow towards Hogsmeade. It was just short of the village itself that we stopped by the side of the snow-covered track.**

**"Are we alone?" I asked her.**

**"Yes. I can't see anyone."**

**"Can you apparate?" I enquired.**

**She raised her eyebrows.**

**"I'm _sixteen_, Tom!"**

**I held my arm out and she took it, holding on tightly.**

**"So am I." I replied. "And just look at _your_ hobbies. _This_ is one of mine."**

**Seconds later, we had left the field we were standing in, and were standing by a blank, grey brick wall behind a blank, grey brick building.**

**The snow still clung to our boots, which looked odd, as it wasn't snowing in London, just a light, grubby drizzle. Stamping the snow from her boots, Laura looked around.**

**"You apparated us!"**

**I nodded.**

**"How long have you been able to do that?"**

**"Since I was thirteen," I replied. "Second year. It was convenient. But it isn't perfect.Not yet. I can only do it from certain places. Ones I'm used to. At the moment, that is."**

**"But you're working on it, I expect?" she laughed.**

**"Mmmhm."**

**"What else do you work on, Tom?"**

**"Things." I told her, feigning a casual tone. " Just….. things."**

**She narrowed her eyes.**

**"So…….where are we?"**

**"London. Muggle London. Like you asked for." I told her.**

**"And where _exactly_ are we?" she questioned.**

**I took her arm and walked past the overflowing bins in the sidestreet, past the courtyard where the iron railings were before they tore them down, and pointed to a sign at the front of the building that announced, in chipped and fading paint:**

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_**VAUXHALL ROAD ORPHANAGE****

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**"Here?" She whispered, horrified, "You…….. grew up….. _here_?"**

**I nodded emotionlessly, "You get used to it," I told her. Though I hadn't.**

**"I never would," Laura declared. "It's so………grey and……. flat."**

**She stood and stared for a while. I fell back, out of sight, gazing up at the window on the second floor. The room was in darkness.**

**As Laura continued to stare, a woman I didn't recognise came around the side of the building, carrying a mop and bucket. She threw down the mop and proceeded to empty the rancid water down the nearest drain. It wasn't long before she noticed Laura staring up at the building, and when she did, she straightened, putting her hands on her hips and adjusting her ragged headscarf.**

**"'Ain't you got a home to go to?" she called, brandishing the mop and thumping it on the ground in front of her in a threatening manner.**

**Laura gaped, clearly wondering if the woman was actually talking to her, then turned on her heel and ran across to where I was waiting by the fence of the bootmenders next door.**

**"That's right, sling yer 'ook!"**

**"Ruddy urchins…" I heard the woman mutter as she disappeared again, presumably to the scullery steps of the Orphanage.**

**I assumed she had just started her place there and I made a mental note to introduce myself over the following summer. I would look forward to it immensely.**

**I pulled Laura away by the hand, down the street, which was quite as grubby and grey as the Orphanage itself, and we headed towards the river.**

**The early afternoon sun was weak as the wind swirled dead cigarette ends and litter around our feet.**

**We turned a corner, and suddenly there was a view right over the Thames. I was able to smell the river before I saw it, as always, it smelt of stale pollution, of dead fish, and of going rotten, but Laura was looking at the view as one would gaze rapturously upon the eighth wonder of the world.**

**"It's so wonderful," she breathed. "You never told me it would be like this!"**

**"Wonderful?" I raised an eyebrow, quizzically. " You wouldn't call it that if you had been cooped up here for eleven years of your life in that…( I looked back over my shoulder)…that _place_, not to mention every Summer. And that's _without _the Muggles all trying to kill each other and having bombs dropped on the City every other day."**

**"Bombs?"**

**I struggled for a method of explanation.**

**"Things that explode and destroy buildings. The Muggles use them to kill each other."**

**"What? Why do the Muggles want to kill each other?"**

**Again, I searched for a very simple method of explaining the mechanics of Muggle politics and warfare to a Pureblood witch. Eventually,I settled for:**

**"They fight over who owns the land." I said, aware of how trite it sounded when I compared it to the unvarnished truth.**

**"Oh. I see. Right. Muggles."**

**She shook her head. It was fairly obvious she did not see at all, judging by her expression, which was one of utter confusion. But she dropped the subject, to my great relief, seeming to be content just to gaze at the sights and sounds of the Muggle City where I had grown up. How I despised it.**

**How far gone, I communed with myself, as we walked together, how far gone I must be, to bring her here at all.**

**We reached the riverbank and walked along it. Still, she did not say a word, just took in all the surroundings in silence. Occasionally, she'd furrow her brow as if she was puzzled by what she saw, but she didn't ask any more questions.**

**I was willing to bet, though, that once we arrived back at Hogwarts, she would be rifling through the Muggle Studies section of the Library and looking up all the details.**

**As we walked, I drew a few strange glances from passers by. I knew I looked older than sixteen – I had already reached six foot two by then - and I knew, inherently, that they were wondering why I, too, weren't fighting in their miserable Muggle War.**

**I had wondered what it would be like to go to war, years ago, when it all started, when we heard Chamberlain on the wireless. "Avada Kedavra" I thought, silently, and I smiled to myself, touching my wand where it was concealed in the sleeve of the thin woollen coat. I felt sure that the curse I had read of, the Unforgivable curse, would work on Muggles even better than it did on Wizards. Better, because they would not even know what had hit them. It seemed to me to be quicker, cleaner, and more efficient than any bomb.**

**It had begun to spot with rain. I put my arm around Laura's shoulders and pulled her against me. She took my hand and squeezed it a little as we turned into a wide street**

**The street was bustling with activity. Muggles were chattering inanely to each other on the pavements, wishing one another a Happy New Year. Across the street, between windows way above our heads, someone had strung a ragged Union Jack, and alongside it, a faded and dirty cloth banner hung, bearing letters scrawled in blue paint.**

_**"1943-----THE YEAR FOR VICTORY!"**_

**I thought of my mother, alone and wretched, walking these same streets, hungry and cold.**

**My mother, who had died when I were an hour old, my mother, who died on New Years Day.**

**I was glad of Laura, warm, next to me, happy just to be with me, and a curious feeling crept up in my chest. Quickly, I forced it back down. It would not do to become maudlin.**

**"You look sad, Tom. Is something wrong?"**

**Laura was looking at me, studying my face as she might study her Potions homework.**

**"No, I'm quite well." I lied. "Thank you.' I added, stiffly.**

**"No, you aren't," Laura pressed, "You were fine a moment ago, but now you look all…" she paused, searching for the right word. "Oh, I don't know. You look all cloudy, all of a sudden."**

**I laughed, then, in spite of myself, at her odd choice of words.**

**"It's just….well…" I hesitated, hating myself for being weak enough to utter the words, but they seemed to force themselves out unbidden, as blood might seep from a physical wound.**

**"It's just that… my Mother…she died, well, you know she died, of course." ( I paused, and breathed deeply.) Why was I saying this? Why?**

**"It happened… there… in the Orphanage," (I jerked my head back in the direction we had come.) "New Year's Day. Just past midnight, they told me. They could hear….(Here, I had to take another deep breath)**

**"They could hear the crowds outside in the Square. That's how they knew the New Year had arrived. They were singing Auld Lang Syne."**

**I could tell that Laura didn't know what Auld Lang Syne was, but she held me, anyway, in the middle of that street, unabashed, and stroked my hair, and murmuring softly under my ear.**

**"Oh…..Tom…..."**

**I did not return her embrace.**

**I could not. Her sympathy stung.**

**O O O O O**

**The drizzle had stopped, but the snow was still melting in places, and it covered the ground in a muddy grey slush.**

**On the corner stood a small Muggle Bakery. The sign above it had been blanked out because of the war, but I seemed to remember it being called the East Vauxhall Road Bakery.**

**Now, though the sign just read The…………..Bakery, this was supposedly to prevent German enemies from knowing where they were, but seemed to serve merely to confuse the British.**

**It was open, despite it being New Year's Day, and I could only reason that this was due to the five scruffy little boys running around the shop, belonging to the Muggle woman behind the counter, whose efforts to control them were proving to be in vain.**

**The woman had just placed a tray of hot buns in the window. It was obvious that she needed the money, for all of her sons, ranging in age from three to about ten, looked quite as if they could do with a few dozen apiece themselves.**

**I opened the door of the shop and Laura followed, smiling at the little boys who suddenly seemed to become quiet and shy.**

**The Muggle woman looked at me with weary eyes over the counter. I asked her for half a dozen and passed her sixpence from the small cache of change I had found forgotten in my coat pocket. Her fingers closed on the money and she handed me a paper bag.**

**I took it, murmuring a word of thanks due more to habit than the desire to be polite to the Muggle, and I turned to walk away.**

**It was then I heard one of the little boys giggle suddenly and turned around to see Laura, pressing a silver coin into the smallest boy's hand.**

**The bigger boys all crowded around to see what the dark haired girl had given their sibling, but it was only when the oldest boy called:**

**"Hey, Miss, is this money?" that I realised what she had done. In the boy's upturned palm lay a silver sickle, gleaming guiltily.I felt for my wand.**

**I pulled Laura away up the street. When we were out of earshot, I turned to her and whispered, furiously:**

**"What on earth are you playing at? You can't do that!"**

**"Do what?" she frowned.**

**"Give them that!"**

**She looked puzzled and annoyed.**

**"Just some money. For sweets, you know. I felt sorry for them."**

**I sneered.**

**"You gave them a _sickle_!" I said, incredulously.**

**She shook her head as if she was not sure of what she was hearing.**

**"So I gave them a sickle.So what, Tom? Father is always saying I eat too many sweets."**

**I found my last shilling and pulled it out of my pocket, grasping her hand and pressing the coin into her palm.**

**"What's this?" she asked. "Who's _that_? Is he a famous wizard?" she muttered, examining the etching of King George VI, who Laura, of course, had never heard of.**

**"Muggle money. You'll have the Ministry catch us if you give Wizarding money to a Muggle!"**

**"Muggles have their own money?"**

**She clapped a hand over her mouth in horror.**

**"Shall we be caught?" she whispered, suddenly fearful.**

**"Of course we won't get caught.' I said, confidently.**

**"You are lucky I'm with you. I gave him a Muggle coin instead. And a memory charm, while I was at it._"_**

**Laura looked relieved.**

**"You do have to look after me, don't you, Tom." Laura laughed, a little guiltily.**

**"Don't worry," I muttered.**

**"I shall."**

**O O O O O**

**The buns were reasonably good, though small. That had been the way of most things since my second year at Hogwarts. I knew that the war had started just days after I returned for my second year, in September, '39, and ever since then, food had become even scarcer and nastier than it had been before at the Orphanage.**

**I would make sure I came home with my own 'rations' every summer, making sure that a particularly nasty hex was upon my trunk to deter any would be thieves. Most were too afraid of meeting me alone anyway, to venture into my room, but a few did, and I was most amused to see the welts and burns on their hands the next day. What Mrs Cole thought, I had no idea, nor did I care.**

**We walked through a nearby park, still eating. Laura picked pieces of bread out of the paper bag to throw to the scruffy pigeons, but I stopped her before she could.**

**"Don't. You can't." I said.**

**"I can't feed scraps to birds?" she said, incredulously.**

**I shook my head.**

**"It's wartime, remember. I'm used to it, I suppose, but they say not to waste food. It's illegal to feed the birds because they say it's a waste."**

**"The Muggles say that? Even scraps?"**

**"They use scraps to feed pigs." I informed her, dryly. "They're more use than pigeons, for food."**

**"Your home is rather peculiar, Tom. These Muggles….with their funny coins, all these curious laws…." Laura said, shaking her dark hair out of her face.**

**"I must say I am glad I don't have to be a Muggle, even just for summer."**

**I frowned.**

**I hated her calling it my home. It wasn't my home and never had been.**

**Let the Muggles drop their bombs. Hadn't my father been one, and one who could have spared me the life I had known, could have even spared my mother's life into the bargain.**

**I wondered briefly what life would have been like with my mother and father loving me, bringing me up, in a house, our family home, not in London, somewhere nicer than London, the country, or maybe by the sea.**

**I pictured the house, sometimes, in my mind's eye, and my mother.**

**I imagined her looking a little like myself, black hair -hers would be longer, of course – dark blue eyes and heavy brows, like my own. She would be beautiful, and clever like myself. She would be proud of my achievements, her intelligent son, the prefect, the Headmaster's favourite, dead cert for Head Boy. I could not imagine her any other way**

**I couldn't picture my father, imagine his face, because when I thought of him, I felt only hatred.**

**This was _not_ my world. Nor was it my mother's. Let the Muggles bomb all they liked. Let them all burn, preferably.**

**Laura must have noticed my expression, for she said, with a note of concern,**

**"I'm sorry, Tom. I meant you should never have to be here at all. You aren't like the Muggles, I mean, truly, you are the best wizard in the school. I suppose I just simply _cannot_ imagine you growing up here, though it _is_ quite amazing. _If_ a bit weird." she added, looking around, as if to illustrate the point.**

**"You are amazing too, you know. I really think so. Like I said. When you're older, they'll be nothing you can't do. Nothing at all."**

**I forgave her then, just for that. Even when she said,**

**"You even look funny in those clothes."**

**"I could take them off later?" I offered, keeping my eyes fixed on a point in the distance, but she knew what I meant and I think she smiled.**

**O O O O O**

**We found an iron bench and sat in the park long after the buns were gone. I could still taste the sweetness of them, warm sugar on her lips as we kissed, and then it was getting dark, and it was time to go. Out on the streets, the Wardens were beginning to appear, ushering the Muggles back to their houses and making sure there were no lights left for the German planes to spot. I had planned to leave while it was still light, but I had been so long away from the Muggle world.**

**Now, however, the frightening truth became apparent. I knew it wasn't really safe, and I knew we needed to get back to Hogwarts and the relative safety of the Wizarding world as quickly as possible.**

**What if there did happen to be an air raid? Laura would be terrified, and not know what to do. I was used to them, the raids had begun in my second summer back from Hogwarts. We all used to pile down into the basement, and wait for the obscene wailing of the air raid sirens to stop and that single note to signify the all clear. Sometimes they would be short, but other times we were down there all night long, listening to the crashes and explosions and praying they wouldn't come any closer.**

**Some of the others would sing songs and the tuneless warbling would bore into my consciousness as I tried to read. If I was lucky, I could find a space near to Amy Benson, and amuse myself with her while one of the Wardens tried to chat up Mrs. Cole.**

**The street was getting darker. I hurried Laura along, pausing only to explain that it was not safe to be here after dark, and besides, Dippet and Flitwick must not notice our absence.**

**I gripped her hand and I knew that the alleyway we had apparated to before was just around the corner.**

**We passed back by the Orphanage again, which was now almost in darkness. I had usually been handed the job of pulling the blackout blinds down because I was the tallest, but now only one window remained uncovered and as I glanced over my shoulder, I could see a young boy in a grey jersey, with flat, fair hair. He was standing on a chair pulling down the drapes, but as we passed he looked up, and just as I hurried out of sight, I had the satisfaction of seeing him fall backwards off of the chair in shock. I knew who it was. Dennis Bishop would not have been at all pleased to see me.**

**And then I heard it. The air raid siren shattered the night air with a hollow wail that rose and fell. Laura, on my left side, jumped and grabbed hold of my threadbare lapels, looking up at me like a terrified animal, her eyes wild and frightened.**

**"What is it? What's happening?"**

**"Air raid.' I told her, though I knew it would mean nothing. I could hear a dull throb of engines approaching in the distance.**

**"Just run." I said.**

**And so we ran, and we reached the alleyway as the searchlights began to move across the sky. Somewhere, I could hear a loud 'boom!' and the crash of breaking glass. Laura tripped and fell, grazing her knee badly and tearing her stocking to the ankle. I dragged her up and held onto her tightly, thinking about Hogsmeade and safety as hard as I could.**

**Then, as everything went black, the noise stopped, there was a squeezing sensation, and then we were standing alone on the outskirts of Hogsmeade village, the snow falling silently, swirling around us like feathers, like frozen swansdown.**

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**1943 was not the year for victory, of course...but I dare say the Londoners hoped...**

**I'd love a review if you have a mind to! Could do with some feedback...roughly halfway through now. If I haven't said, this story is actually finished, it's just the uploading...takes me some time! ; )**


	13. Part Twelve: Malfoy's Masterplan

**Disclaimer: What you recognize is not mine...**

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**Part Twelve**

**Malfoy's Masterplan.**

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The new term arrived, and with it came Abraxas Malfoy. Grinning all over his pale, well-cut features, he pulled me aside one morning in the dorm after all the others had left for their classes.

"What?" I questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

"Riddle," said Malfoy, confidentially, "I've been thinking, over the holidays."

I smirked. "A dangerous pastime for you, surely, Abraxas."

Malfoy looked briefly confused. As usual, though, his brain elected to ignore anything other than crawling admiration, usually from the opposite sex, although I was fairly sure his own would do, in a pinch.

"I found the passwords to Father's secret library," he whispered, after a second, evidently quite pleased with himself.

"Does dear Polly know?" I sneered at the mention of his irritating sister.

Abraxas bristled.

"I don't go everywhere with Apollonia, Riddle. Anyway, she'd tell Mother and then -" he paused "Well, see, I found some stuff. Could be good. Could be useful. You would probably understand a bit more than I did but-"

"Useful, in what sense?" I interrupted him.

Abraxas gave a twisted grin.

"In the _sense_ that Father has a library that he doesn't want anyone to see. And it's absolutely chock full of interesting stuff Merrythought probably doesn't even know about. All we're ever going to do here is the defence rubbish that that old hag teaches us. What about the real thing? WE should take matters into our own hands, I thought—"

"What are you suggesting?" I asked him, levelly.

"A club," he said, dramatically, "Or, more like, a secret society. Only Slytherin allowed, of course, you know," he continued,

"And, only the best."

"Why, Abraxas," I sneered, "You've just ruled yourself out of your own club."

"Bugger off, Riddle, or I'll leave you out." Malfoy said angrily.

I crossed the room to the door, robes sweeping after me. I was late and Malfoy was becoming tiresome.

"As you like," I shrugged. " It's all a little beneath me, I must admit, Malfoy. But good luck. I'm sure you will have….fun."

I emphasised the last word with heavy sarcasm, and had begun to open the door when Abraxas lunged across the room and slammed it shut again. I drew my wand, pointing it in his face, but he caught hold of my arm with pale, skinny fingers.

"I didn't mean it…….."

"Then why so _rude_, Malfoy?" I enquired coldly, not lowering my wand.

"I need…..look, I'm sorry, Riddle, really. I just want you to help. It'll be great, I swear. And when we've learned even a quarter of the curses my father's got hidden away….then….."

"Then what?"

"Then, we'll rule this mudblood-infested dump," Abraxas said, with a dark satisfaction.

I couldn't help admitting that it was a tempting idea, even if it was brainless Abraxas'. Still, I would let him imagine that he was in charge. For the present, at least.

"So….when and where, Abraxas?" I asked him, putting my wand slowly back in my sleeve.

He eyed me warily, watching my wand hand.

"I was….rather hoping you could help with that………" Abraxas said, his confidence slipping away by the second before my eyes.

"I see," I said, " Why aren't I surprised by that, Malfoy?"

"We need somewhere to meet," Abraxas said, ignoring the barb this time. "Somewhere secret, where they won't find out…and you know stuff. I know you do. You sneak out—"

"I don't know where you heard such lies, Malfoy. I am a prefect. I do my duty."

Malfoy gave me a sarcastic look.

"Right," he said. "But, somehow,Riddle, I would wager you know a few more of the secret rooms and passages than most here. It might be friendly to share some of that knowledge,"

I smiled. "Where did you get the idea I wanted be _friendly_, Malfoy?" I said, in an amused tone," But I may share some of it. May. I'll decide, later."

Pointing my wand at the door,it sprang open, knocking Abraxas Malfoy over backwards. He gave a yell of pain, but I swept out without looking back, and nearly collided with Apollonia on the stairs.

I did not greet her and nor did she speak to me. I walked quickly away, leaving her to deal with Abraxas and his bleeding nose, because after all, he was not my concern.

**O O O O O**

In truth, I had no idea where we could meet. It was one thing sneaking off with Laura, the scenes that were burned into my memory from so many nights after hours, pressed together, together alone….without conscious _thought_, just us and that…… unbelievable heat that was always _there_ when she was with me.

Without it, I was cold, but together, I couldn't feel it even when we were down on the cold stone floor, whatever secret niche or hidden room I had located. It always changed, yet the scenes stayed the same. I always saw her back to the foot of Ravenclaw tower, and I always went to bed in the dungeons with my body aching but sated, longing for the next time as I had never longed for anyone………and cold again, once I was alone.

So cold. But despite all this, I was beginning to despise myself for this longing, this want to just have someone close to me.

Even though I told her still, precious little about myself, preferring instead to listen to her talk, her tales, lest I say too much, if I started.

I already had rebuked myself sternly for my outburst in Muggle London, and I vowed it would never happen again, I did not want her to know that I could be so weak. It was dangerous, I told myself, to trust, to show your weak spots. Even though it seemed that maybe I could trust Laura, I knew I would never take such a foolish risk. Even for love. Even for her to love me. At least, I thought so. People who know too much are too dangerous.

But the thought of it ……I forced myself to even think the word…..Love…….it was so tempting. One more step, and I'll fall.

And I hated myself for wanting what I could never have. I should have known no good would come of it at all. I should have known.

But once you've tasted blood, you want it, again and again.

This certainly rung true for me, at least, for as the weeks pushed on and the snow melted, I spent less and less time alone and brooding, and more and more time with Laura, and for a while, I think, I may have been happy.

We never told anyone, and we would always meet when everyone else had gone to their respective dorms and retired for the night. We were never caught, I made sure of that, and so it was that most nights after prefect duty, I would wait at the foot of Ravenclaw tower, for her….and every night she would be there. She never kept me waiting, she never let me down.

She would smile and put her arms around my neck in that way that had become so warm, so familiar, so _necessary_.

And then she'd break the kiss – I always waited for her to break the kiss- and she would whisper:

"Have you somewhere to take me, tonight?" and I would nod and lead the way, one hand in hers and one on my wand, just in case, just in case.

**O O O O O**

"Do you love me?" she asked me one night, after a particularly passionate night in one of the towers that nobody used.

"Of course," I replied.

"You don't just say that because…."

"Because of what?" I said, smiling at her sudden embarassment.

She made a vague gesture at our clothing, discarded.

"Because you sleep with me, when you shouldn't."

My smile broadened.

"Did we sleep?" I asked, in mock puzzlement, "I can't say I noticed…."

Laura folded her arms, affecting exasperation.

"You, know what I mean, Riddle!"

I frowned.

"Why shouldn't I sleep with you?" I asked, "Because your _pureblood_ father wouldn't like it?"

"It isn't meant to be liked by him!" Laura declared, "It's none of his business. I just wondered…"

"What? What did you….wonder?" I said again.

"If you thought less of me. If it makes me the kind of girl no man wants to marry. Dirty, you know. Father would disown me if he knew. He'd call me a…… whore. He'd disown me."

"I thought I was the dirty one, here, according to your dear father? If I was a Pureblood, how would it be different?" I couldn't disguise the derision in my voice, or the sneer.

"He'd want us to marry. Be respectable. Have babies! Dreadful things!"

"So if I asked you to marry me after school, you'd refuse me?" I raised one eyebrow, waiting for the answer. It didn't come.

She gave me a pleading look, reached for her clothes, and spent a long pause fiddling with the buttons on her boots.

"I don't know." She said eventually.

"Thank you," I said, bitterly. "I suppose at least I know now, not to ask."

She looked at me incredulous.

"You wouldn't have done that anyway!"

I riled at her assumption of exactly what I would and wouldn't do, and it was now my turn to seize my own clothes, fumbling furiously at the buttons on my braces and eventually firing a spell at the uncooperative things. I threw my threadbare cloak about my shoulders, and stood up.

"You think just like your father, Laura," I said, my voice shaking with rage. " You pretend not to, but you do."

"I do no such thing!" she exclaimed angrily. "It's you who it bothers so much! You're obsessed! Obsessed with your parents and your bloodline and………all those books you read! I've seen them. Under your bed, and Tom, it's not healthy. Not to mention you would be _expelled_, if anyone but _me_ found out--"

"--SHUT UP!--"

I heard my own voice, harsh and angry, and it was as if I was far away. I didn't mean to shout at her, truly, I didn't. But all the confusion and anger and rejection I usually kept hidden, suddenly came boiling to the surface, molten fury, and suddenly, I needed to get away. I walked quickly towards the door of the tower room, not daring to look at her. Then, though, I felt a small figure push past me with a huge sob, and Laura ran down the stairs, her boots clattering loudly, too loudly, in the still night air, her hand rubbing angrily at her cheek as if she was wiping something away.

**O O O O O**

The next night, she didn't come to the foot of Ravenclaw tower. I waited for an hour from the usual time, and still she wasn't there. Eventually, I was forced to accept that she wasn't coming.

Back in my dormitory, I found myself staring into the blackness of the dormitory, listening to Mulciber snoring and Evan Rosier's incoherent mutterings, watching the skylight turn from black to a flat, sad grey.

I tried to convince myself that it would soon be forgotten, that she would be there and everything would just go back to how it was before, nothing said, no apology required.

But it didn't, of course.

I returned to wait for her the next night, and the next. I felt foolish to do it, to wait, for her, endlessly. I knew by then that she wasn't coming, that she was asleep in her bed and probably not giving me a second thought. Most likely she had forgotten all about me, the half-blood.

I had never noticed before how dark and lonely that corridor was. It had always seemed so bright.

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End of Part Twelve.


	14. Part Thirteen: The Thirteenth Chair

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize etc...**

**A/N...I hadn't meant this to be the thirteenth chapter, but it has worked out that way. Weird...**

**Thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter, hope you will continue to tell me what you think...cause it makes me happy. ..: )**

**Oh, and thank you if you are still here after twelve chapters. This was meant to be a short story...one more thing that didn't work out, I suppose! Hope you are liking the tale so far. **

**Please mind the M rating...**

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**Part Thirteen**

**The Thirteenth chair

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Some nights later, I was in the library, at my usual table in the furthest corner away from the librarian's desk….. near the restricted section.

Over my book, I could see Madam Finnelly approaching.

"Tom, dear," she simpered. I was in a foul mood and had to try hard to avoid actually curling my lip. She nauseated me to the very core of my being. Sickly sweet. Ugh.

"Tom, dear," she repeated. I pasted on a smile, and looked up, waiting politely.

"The library's closing now. Ten o' clock!"

I gaze at her with my very best endearing expression, wide eyes, with just a touch of nervousness. Nice puppy.

Bloody woman.

"Could I have…just five more minutes……please………..Miss?" I asked, in my most charming of tones. I knew what the answer would be.

She looked around to check there were no other students, then winked at me roguishly.

"Just for you, my dear, five minutes. But only five! A clever boy like you needs his sleep!"

I winced inwardly as she reached down with painted pink talons, pinching my cheek. Dear Tom Riddle. Such a model pupil.

When I closed the door of the library behind me, half an hour later, I had no intention of going to bed, though I supposed I should make a pretence of it.

In the dungeons, Abraxas and Evan were arguing again, about Rosier's sister's honour, I presumed, laughing to myself. Oh, the irony.

Why Rosier even bothered was beyond me, it was common knowledge that his sister was the school slut.

Vittorio Zabini, meanwhile, was lolling on Malfoy's bed in his pyjamas, swigging Firewhisky out of the bottle, and regaling Mulciber, Dolohov and Nott with expansive tales of his own prowess.

"Out, Zabini," I ordered, as I came in.

Zabini sniffed and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Goodnight to you, too, Thomas."

"Out. Now." I repeated.

He strolled at a leisurely pace towards his own dorm, but instead of leaving, he lounged against the doorjamb, grinning, and prepared to resume his conversation.

I raised my wand towards him and he backed off a little, hands raised, and said:

"You should find yourself a girlfriend, Riddle. Make you less…uptight, if you see what I mean….OUCH!"

The door slammed in his face. Smugly, I slid my wand back inside my sleeve amidst a faint chorus of "Bloody hell, Riddle…"

"Anyone else?" I snarled. "No? Then shut up and go to sleep."

Nobody said anything. I pointed my wand to snuff out the lamps one by one and lay back, the pillow cool on my hot cheek. My mind drifted, and I realised with an uncomfortable lurch that I had been thinking about Laura running her fingers softly through my hair….kissing my forehead….

My head ached.

**O O O O O**

I must have fallen asleep for an hour or so, because when I woke, all was silent in the room. I felt around on the floor for my shoes and crept out.

In the next dorm, Zabini was asleep too. I managed to purloin his invisibility cloak without too much trouble, and slipped out of the dungeons.

I reached the seventh floor corridor without meeting or hearing anyone. I walked the length of it, slowly, looking for any sign, searching for the slightest indication of a hidden entrance, scrutinizing every portrait.

I did not, of course, know exactly what I was looking for, but there were signs-I knew-by now…..a brick out of place, a hole in the wall that could be enlarged……unusual statues, or peculiar markings on an everyday object, but I found nothing.

Perhaps-I thought-perhaps Dippet or even….Dumbledore had discovered the room first, and sealed the secret entrance? The text I had found in the mouldering, dusty tome had merely described it as ' The rumoured Coming and Going room' and that could mean anything…

I wondered briefly if it could really be the Secret Chamber I had been looking for ever since I had learnt that I was related to Salazar Slytherin, in my first year. Salazar Slytherin's legacy……..but why would it be here, on the seventh floor near the towers? It didn't make sense. No. It had to be something else.

I paced the corridor three more times, and so caught up was in my search that I didn't hear the soft footsteps turn into the corridor behind me.

"Tom?"

A hand on my arm, and I swung round, the shock of seeing her like an electrical charge.

"What are you doing up….and _here_?" said Laura.

For a moment, I couldn't say anything. She could see me, of course, the silver eagles glinting accusingly, treacherously, in the light of the lit sconces against the rough stone walls.

Her hair was wet, it had obviously been raining, and a misty droplet still shone above one ear.

She was wrapped in her thick blue cloak, with black riding jodhpurs underneath. All her clothes were covered in mud.

"I'd ask you the same," I said, breathlessly, at long last.

Laura shook her hair out of her face and pulled off her gloves, adjusting the fat, badly knitted navy scarf she had stuffed around her neck.

"You're not stupid, Tom Riddle." she said.

She pursed her lips and followed my eyes down her mud splattered clothing, and I felt a sudden unbidden stirring in my groin.

"Do you think I _sleep_ in these?"

I frowned. "I don't like to think of you _sleeping_ in anything." I murmured, absently. The words were out , though, before I realised what I had said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"I didn't mean…." I heard a note of pleading in my voice that I did not like and hadn't intended.

"I'm sorry……."

She just looked at me.

"I need to talk to you," I managed eventually, after a painful pause.

She looked away. "I thought you said all you wanted to say on Saturday night, Tom"

It would, I thought, have been nice if I could have thought of something more eloquent to say; done something more fitting for the Heir of Slytherin himself than shuffle my feet and bite my lip and mumble that I missed her.

After a pause she said "It hasn't even been a week."

"I know. Maybe I'm addicted to you," I told her.

She laughed in spite of herself.

"Then we're addicted to each other, then, I suppose."

She reached up, and I felt the familiar softness of her mouth on mine. She smelt of cold and of wet air. I searched out her tongue, and slid mine against hers. She sucked gently on my lower lip, and I felt her hand sliding slowly up my leg.

"Come to bed with me," I muttered, into her mouth, now barely able to restrain the raw need I felt to feel her body, hot and wanting, against mine.

"Where? They would hear, if we went to your dorm," she whispered.

"I'll jinx them all to have you in my bed tonight." I said, fervently.

"Would you?" I couldn't see her face but I could tell by her voice she was smiling.

I nodded as she caressed me through my thin woollen trousers. I brought my hand up under her shirt.

" I have to go back," she said.

"Don't go," I said. "I thought you said you missed me?"

I felt her grin into my chest.

"I believe they were your words, not mine."

She broke away from me, though I tried to hold on. She kissed my cheeks like I saw her kiss her father's ..the French way, and then she hurried off down the corridor. I leant against a hideous tapestry of trolls, and caught my breath before heading, defeated, back to my own dormitory.

I put Zabini's cloak back in dormitory 5b and slipped into the cool sheets of my own bed.

I hadn't been lying there long when I heard the door creak and open, and light footfalls on the cold linoleum.

The small figure parted the hangings, and dropped a heavy cloak on the floor at the end of the bed. I could smell shampoo and lilies of the valley, and I could feel her hair, wet and freshly washed on my bare arm.

She slid her body over mine and I indulged myself with a long, deep kiss, both of us moving together as I divested her of her nightdress, before reaching lazily for my wand and casting a ward over my bed, with a silencing charm.

Then we were kissing again, only pausing when I managed to pull her over on top of me. She seemed happy about this arrangement, and I heard a faint sigh as she settled over my hips. I felt her bare breasts brush my chest as she leaned down onto me, running fingernails through my hair and over my scalp, making me shiver deliciously. I was more than ready for her by the time she reached down and eased me into her as she breathed out in one long, slow shuddering breath.

I closed my eyes, and grinned into the dark.

**O O O O O**

It was perhaps the most daring thing we had ever done, as Rosier, Malfoy, Mulciber and Dolohov all slept, oblivious, mere feet away.

Very soon, though, we were doing it virtually every night, in lieu of meeting in cold corridors, making love on cloaks thrown over stone floors in dilapidated tower rooms. The wards would hold, and as long as I could steal the invisibility cloak, we were able to sneak in and out of the common room as we chose.

I would walk her back as the sun was just rising, both of us under the cloak, as long as we had the cloak and the wards and Laura stuffed the bolsters under her own eiderdown lest the other girls notice her absence in the night, we were safe.

At the same time, though, the thought of the secret room still nagged at me. It had been forgotten that evening in the fresh excitement of sleeping with Laura again, but now I had her back, I dwelt on the room more and more, determined to find it's secret entrance.

It was because of Abraxas that I found it, three weeks after I got Laura back.

The snow had long since melted, and across the grounds, yellow daffodils and violet crocuses pushed skyward through the once-frozen earth.

I spent my time with Laura, and when I wasn't with her, I was thinking of her, not doing any the things I should have been doing. Not my lessons. But the other things.

She wrote our names on the biggest tree in the forest, with her wand, laughing. I gave her flowers on Valentines day. I was not paying attention, in the most dangerous of ways.

And I still hadn't spoken to Abraxas about what he had said. Vaguely, I wondered one morning across the breakfast table if he had forgotten his idiotic plans. I was fairly sure they would come to naught, much like his previous escapades.

But it was true, I hadn't found anywhere to meet, and I was on the verge of having to admit this fact when Abraxas caught up with me after Astronomy. We had been last out, Abraxas hanging around as Professor Vane lectured me on the drop in my marks, when he followed me down the deserted seventh floor corridor.

Outside, we could hear the other students in the grounds on break, shouting and laughing. I glanced out of the window and could see Laura in conversation with Apollonia Malfoy, who was laughing at something, and I felt a jab of paranoia.

"So, what have you got, then?" Abraxas was saying, eagerly.

"What?" I enquired, coldly, looking down at him

Abraxas rolled his silver eyes.

"Our meeting place. It's been weeks, Riddle. Have you forgotten?"

"I have other interests than your requirements, Abraxas, I am afraid," I replied sarcastically, and continued to walk away down the corridor.

"Riddle, wait," Abraxas said. "You must know somewhere. I know you go out at night. Where do you go? You must have somewhere."

I stopped and turned, next to that ridiculous troll picture, I noted, and pointed my wand at him, smiling icily.

"You had better forget that particular piece of information, Brax. Or I might have to make you."

"Don't you dare!" Abraxas clapped his hands over his face in panic. "Don't you dare mess around with my head!"

I chuckled. "Don't mess around with me, then, Abraxas. You have to sleep…. sometime."

We stood still, my eyes locked on his silver ones, for a long moment. But Abraxas lowered his first, as I knew he would, acquiescing silently to my unspoken order.

"So….we still need somewhere…" he said, in a whisper.

I nodded, curtly, pacing back and forth in front of the gaudy tapestry.

"Go away, Abraxas." I instructed. " I need to think. And besides, Slughorn's inspecting the dormitory this evening, so tidy your stuff. You can do mine, too."

He nodded, and walked away down the corridor. I called after him.

"Malfoy!"

"Yes?" he replied, blond hair hanging over forehead to frame his sulky expression.

"Stay out of the trunk. Or else."

It was not until the hem of Malfoy's expensive robes had whipped around the corner and out of sight that I turned around and saw the door in the wall.

I knew it hadn't been there a minute ago, opposite the portrait I had been leaning against while I threatened Abraxas. But now there it was, shining polished and just proud of the wall.

Laura would have urged caution, though I doubted she would have been able to resist opening it for long, either. Abraxas would have been worried, and Nott would have been scared.

But I was not Laura or Malfoy or Nott. I took out my wand, and holding it aloft and in front with Gryffindor bravery, reached out for the cold, brass doorknob.

It turned, and I strode straight into the room in front of me.

Silence. Just that, absolute silence. The room I found myself in was dark, and windowless.

There was an eerie green light coming from somewhere I couldn't see, and I could hear the faint drip of water, like a leaking tap, echoing on the stone floor, though I could not see where it might be coming from. Quickly, I scanned the room.

In all four corners, mouths open as if ready to strike, marble serpents reared and seemed to hiss and spit, their cold, inanimate bodies twisting around Grecian pillars that stretched floor to ceiling.

The ceiling itself stretched some eighteen feet up and was covered in cobwebs and ugly plaster angels, their cracked noses and dirty faces obscene and leering, like gargoyles, in the gloom.

I looked away from them, turning my attention to the only furniture in the room, for between the marble serpents, under that horrible ceiling, there stood a circle of twelve ordinary black iron chairs.

Standing between these, at the head of the group, with six seats either side, was the last chair.

This was, however, anything but ordinary, for though it too was wrought of black iron, it was as a throne would be, arms finely wrought and set with polished black stones, intricate twists and sweeps of metal, and serpents, again-a seat worthy of Slytherin himself, and perhaps, I imagined, it really could have been.

Indeed, all looked set for a meeting. But who would be meeting here, in this serpentine room, in secret?

I realised then what the magic was, must be, and why the room never opened before when I looked for it. It was my conversation with Abraxas that had made it happen, I had walked across this stretch of wall at least three times as I wondered where we could meet. And here it was.

The Room of Requirement, truly living up to its name.

**O O O O O**

I mentioned it to no-one until I saw Abraxas alone the following day. I didn't even mention it to Laura, she might ask difficult questions and anyway, it wasn't something I wanted her to know about and thus there was no need for her to be involved. This is what I told myself, firmly. A part of me wanted, absurdly, to confide in her Abraxas' plan, ask her to come, even ask what she thought about it, but I crushed my weakness, and when I went to meet Abraxas in the seventh floor corridor after supper the next night, I went alone.

"So, who else have you invited?" I asked him, without introduction.

"Avery," sniffed Abraxas, "Dolohov, Rosier, Mulciber, and Nott, obviously, and Raziel Lestrange is coming with Zabini and Griffin from the other dorm."

"Made up with Rosier, have you?" I sneered, but Abraxas gave a slight inclination his head, and stayed firmly on topic.

"Some of the sixth years….Yaxley and Emiliov, oh, and Jenkins from the seventh."

"Jenkins?" I spat, appalled. "He's a halfwit."

"So is Dolohov." Malfoy sniggered.

"We can practise on Dolohov." I sneered "And Jenkins too, if he steps out of line. So-twelve?"

"Thirteen…." Abraxas trailed off uncertainly as he tried to keep up. "Thirteen, including you."

**O O O O O**

The room was, of course, exactly as it had been when I had seen it last.

Armed with detailed instructions of how to find our meeting place, the other boys duly arrived at the appointed hour, and soon, the room was full of the dull buzz of conversation, hushed and guilty.

Abraxas stationed himself at the centre of the proceedings. Indeed, it did not take him long to assume what he clearly thought was his rightful place in the chair at the head of the circle.

The other chairs filled one by one. I turned my back on Abraxas and examined a tall mahogany bookcase in the corner, picking up a tome and flicking through it idly. Abraxas gave me a meaningful look that I chose to ignore the meaning of.

"Aren't you going to sit, Riddle?" he said, finally, sounding irritable and nervous, in about equal parts.

"I'm quite comfortable here, Malfoy." I said coldly.

Abraxas looked for a moment as if he was going to argue, and then decided against it. Instead, he began to talk, in a pompous tone, about his plans for the new group.

"You see," he blustered, though not quite as convincingly as he would no doubt have liked.

"I'm really, well, after the summer, in Father's private library, you know, quite the expert on Dark Arts. He's got stacks of this stuff-see…"

He produced several small books from under his cloak and laid them on his knees.

"This one tells you how to jinx really effectively. And this," he fumbled for another book,

"Tells you how to use Dark curses to best effect….I doubt any of you will have done any…except….(he glanced very briefly in my direction) well, anyway. Durmstrang learn the Dark Arts. So why shouldn't we?"

A murmur of assent went around the room. Abraxas smirked, and sat up a little straighter.

I stayed in my corner, propped against the bookcases. And I watched.

**O O O O O**

Later, I would consider the events of that first meeting, and the events that followed it.

Abraxas could not hide his weak mastery of the Dark Arts for long,leaving me free to showcase my own considerable talent against his poor basis for comparison.

My marks were once more up to scratch, and so too was my drive and ambition, since Laura had come back to me that night, and those marks told their own story to the other boys.

So it was not long before Abraxas found his fragile grasp upon command slipping through his bony fingers, into my ready hands. This was, of course, exactly what I had planned all along.

It happened, though, quite suddenly, one night. Evan Rosier was arguing with Malfoy again. I heard raised voices echo around the bare walls of the secret room, but had barely looked up in time to see the now familiar sight of the two of them facing off, wands drawn in each others faces.

Rosier let loose a string of profanity and curses, sparks flying from his wand, all narrowly missing Malfoy, who dodged, and proceeded to flourish his own wand unnecessarily at the shorter wizard's forehead. Their duelling skills were almost embarrassing.

"Petrificus totalis!"

With no sound save for an odd sort of strangled gasp, Rosier crumpled to the floor. Abraxas stared at it briefly, then said loudly:

"Who did that? Which one of you did that spell? I'm in charge here and it's my duel, see?"

Nobody looked at me. They knew quite well that it was I who had petrified Rosier, as they had all been watching, and were still doing so, waiting with dreadful anticipation of what was to follow.

Slowly, I raised my wand again, and stepped forward into the centre of the room, with a small, ironic bow.

"If you feel like that, Abraxas, be my guest. It's still your duel."

Silence. Then, one of the older boys sniggered, and the chant of 'fight' went up. Soon, the other boys had formed a rough circle around us, dreadfully eager to witness Malfoy versus Riddle.

In the split second before I raised my wand higher, I wondered what Laura would say to me if she could see me now.

"Crucio!"

A collective gasp went up.

**O O O O O**

When Abraxas came round, I had already finished healing the small graze on my left wrist, where a minor curse had glanced off.

He hauled himself up, clearly with some difficulty, expensive robes coated in grime from the dusty floor of the Room, and leant heavily on the high backed, wrought iron chair in the centre of the room that he had claimed as his own.

"Don't tell Polly," he mumbled. And then his eyes met mine.

Eventually, he spoke again. "What was that for then, Riddle? What is it you're after? There is something, I know it."

I smiled at him, quite genuinely, I thought , which for me, was rare.

"Only my rightful place, Malfoy. I lead. You……." I looked aggressively around the assembled company of other boys from the fifth form to the seventh,

"You follow."

"Unless there's anyone else who wants……a fair competition?" I offered, raising my wand again.

There was no sound. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Until the sudden scraping noise of Abraxas pushing back the huge, iron chair.

He walked slowly, deliberately away from it, and stood in front of me.

"You win. You lead."

I walked back through the circle, absorbing the silence of shock and awe. Every face was fixed upon me, and every mouth was silent, as I took my place in the thirteenth chair.

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**To be continued...**


	15. Part Fourteen: Down By The Lake

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize not mine.**

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**Part Fourteen**

**Down by the Lake**

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Sometimes, mostly when I was lying in bed at night, alone and tired, I thought about confiding in Laura. I could picture myself, strangely, in my mind's eye, telling her all the things I had done, all the things I was ashamed of, all the things that scared me. 

But in my mind, it was as if I was looking at her with somebody else, for I knew, deep down, that I could never tell her anything. So I stopped myself, telling myself that this was just my weak side, a side I wouldn't want her to know anyway, because after all, why would she?

Under my influence, Laura had, unwittingly, become an expert at deception. Not that she wasn't good at it before, but she learned from me what it took to never get caught, and we never did, all the nights we spent together, both in the castle and out with her beloved unicorns in the forest.

She would still visit them alone, sometimes, but more often that not, now, I would accompany her, for after all, I would reason, should she be caught and sent home again, we could not be together.

"I should hate that," she had declared vehemently, kissing me, hard.

"I want to be with you forever,"

And so she learned, learned to love me more, learned to lie and deceive even her friends and teachers and even her father.

Particularly, her father.

**O O O O O**

It was not many weeks after I had assumed leadership of the group, that Professor Dippet announced the Ball. The meetings continued, and we were never caught; the room provided our basic needs of privacy and secrecy, and I taught the others, to be better, but never to match me. Not that I thought any of them could, and I was right. But this suited me perfectly, for even the Seventh years were in awe of my ability. They began to call me their 'Lord'. It began as a joke at first, slightly enviously, I suspected, from Emiliov, one of the sixth formers. But after some time, with some small encouragements, of course, it became my title, and they referred to me as such in private, and hushed tones, and all seriousness….. for they learned quickly that I would be taken so.

School was breaking for a week's half term in two days time. The Great Hall filled up slowly to hear assembly that morning in early April. William Tisker had already pushed past me on his way to the Ravenclaw table.

"Going home to the Home, Riddle?" the girls with him tittered. I recognised one from Laura's dormitory.

I think Laura heard, but she didn't look up, just stiffened her shoulders slightly, and carried on stirring her tea.

I was still looking over at the Ravenclaw table when the Headmaster rose to his feet, and held up his hands for silence.

Nobody paid Dippet much attention, no-one ever did, but I tore my gaze away from Laura, whose eyes were still fixed resolutely on the teacup in front of her, and instead, looked politely and expectantly at the platform. Dippet noticed me, I was, after all, easy to notice, being the tallest at the table, and he smiled approvingly at me. Eventually, the rabble went quiet, and Dippet was able to speak.

"This Summer," he proclaimed, "This Summer, I feel it is time to bring our four houses together. There has been fighting, conflict and discourse in the Wizarding world for too long now, as Dark Wizards revel in creating chaos and destruction,"

"Therefore," Dippet continued "I propose that we unite against the forces of Dark Magic….. together," Here, Abraxas caught my eye and smirked, raising his blond eyebrows, and I heard Dolohov suppress a snigger which he quelled quickly, as I turned, and gave him a furious look.

"I propose a Great Feast," intoned Dippet dramatically "Followed by a Ball. But this will not be an ordinary ball. You are asked to invite your partner from another House only. No exceptions…" Dippet glanced at two sixth year Hufflepuffs who were holding hands across the breakfast table."

"When is it, sir?" asked a Gryffindor prefect.

"It will be held in thirty days." he said. "On the night of the May Day celebrations. I wish you all luck in your preparations, and in finding a partner _from another house_."

Dippet resumed sitting between Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore. I looked back over at Laura again, wondering whether she would expect me to go to the Ball with her, as we had agreed to keep what we had a secret. Would it be obvious, if we went together? I feared it might not be so easy to pass it off as just a means to appease Dippet's exacting terms. I would be expected to find a partner, as a prefect, I knew, but if I couldn't conceal my feeings to myself, then how on earth would I conceal them in front of a whole roomful of people, especially Abraxas and the other members of the club we referred to as the Death Eaters.

The raven brought the scroll. I noticed it at once, swooping low over the neighbouring table.

It circled once, gave a low, gutteral cry and dropped a scroll tied with a black ribbon at Laura's elbow, swooping off without waiting for a reply.

Curious, I watched her. She did not get many letters, much like myself, having no family left to send them. But suddenly, as if she knew I was watching her, she looked up and straight at me, giving me the kind of smile that I knew meant something was about to happen.

I was right.

**O O O O O**

A few hours after the train had left, leaving me behind in the empty Slytherin dormitory, I wandered out to the lake. The sun was warm on my shoulders and I didn't really need my winter cloak anymore, but I took it with me, and it wasn't long after I had sat down in my favourite spot - the spot furthest from the castle and hidden by a copse of dense yew trees, that I heard light footfalls coming through the trees.

Hastily, I flicked the cigarette end between my fingers into the still lake, and stuffed the near-empty box of Players -pilfered from Mrs Cole's private 'entertaining' room, back inside my cloak before I looked up.

"I watched you leave," Laura said. "I guessed you would be down here."

"You guessed correctly, then," I said, smiling at her.

I took off my cloak and spread it out on the grass next to me.

"Sit down,"

"Thanks," she said, leaning over to kiss me.

"You smell odd, like burning." she told me

"I passed by the savage's hut," I answered her, waving a casual hand in the direction of the gamekeeper's lodgings. "He's always burning something or other."

She pulled a scroll out of the pocket of her grey pinafore, and I recognized it at once as the one the bird had brought at breakfast.

"I was supposed to be going home again," she muttered.

"It was from your father, then, I take it?" I said. "Nice bird." I smirked.

"Yes." she said, vaguely, not really hearing me.

"He says I'm to stay at school because he won't be at the farm and it's all locked up." she said, and then paused, taking a deep breath.

"But I'm going home all the same, I think."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, turning to look at her.

She had picked up a pebble, and in silence, without looking back at me, she proceeded to skim it along the surface of the still lake. She watched it go a short way, and sink with a plopping noise, before she turned around, wearing a look that I now recognised as the precursor to her various plots and plans.

"What I said. I'm going home whether he's there or not."

"What for, then?" I asked her.

Laura grinned properly then. But she had skimmed two more stones across the lake, terrifying the orange-billed ducks that were swimming serenely in the late sun's rays, before I got my answer.

"It'll be…..more fun…without him." she answered, at last.

"Because………I rather hoped that you would come too."

**O O O O O**

"Come with you? To your place?" I asked her, with undisguised surprise.

She nodded.

"Say you will!"

It wasn't the first time her enthusiasm had infected me, but so, too, this time, had curiosity, not just about her, and the peculiar place she described as her home, but about Aster Ames and his seemingly rather shadowy existence. I couldn't pass up such an opportunity, could I?

I picked up a stone myself, from the dark, dry earth by my battered shoes, turned it over in my palm, and flung it across the lake with the expertise gained from stoning boats across the Thames as a scruffy orphan with nothing to do.

"I would be…honoured." I told her, with a grin.

The stone skidded right across the water, and hit the opposite bank with a loud crack.

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**To be continued...**

**A/N... The Thames is the river that runs through London, for anyone who doesn't know that already.**

**Please review : )**


	16. Part Fifteen: Ames Farm: Part One

**Disclaimer: Anything recognisable isn't mine!**

**A/N: Great thanks to Indiscreet Midnight, Woodcrazy, Tragic Comedian and firsttimewriter...your nice comments made my weekend! **

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**Part Fifteen**

**Ames Farm - Part One**

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We rose early the next morning, taking advantage that few teachers and even fewer of the remaining students would have risen this early on a Saturday. We left the school boundaries, following the same route as we had the time we had been to London, only this time, the spring skies were a pale lazy blue, with no trace of the winter snow, and the hedgerows were teeming with invisible, yet very audible life, as birds tended nests and families. 

Laura stood alongside me and gripped my hand with the same ferocity as ever, though she claimed not to be afraid. I knew she lied, and I let her, without question.

She had learnt to apparate fast, from me, of course, as we were both still underage, but that bothered her only slightly more than it had me, and I liked that.

I wondered if it was Aster Ames silent disapproval that had made her care so little. Or if it was me?

Presumably, she had made her excuses to Professor Flitwick, as I had made mine, inventing an overnight visit to a 'friend' in London.

The lie was laughable, though I told it as smoothly and sincerely as I had all the others.I had no friends there, but I had forgotten it completely by the time we apparated, and found ourselves away from the outskirts of Hogsmeade, and school…in fact, in another country entirely.

**O O O O O**

The wind flattened the grass on the hillside where we suddenly stood. The sky was brighter here, inflamed with the rising sun of early April, but this was not London. This was a sight that I had never seen.

We were standing on a small chalk track, surrounded by fields on all sides. Down the path, behind us, lay a stile and a small, dilapidated gate, and beyond this, I could see a copse of tall dark trees, punctuated by the spire of a Muggle church and suggesting that a village lay just beyond view.

Laura set off in the other direction, uphill, and I followed her. This way there was nothing to see but sky, like we were walking over a cliff, to topple into the sea at any moment.

And there was magic in the air. Somewhere, I could feel it's pull, inexplicably, but as we came to a wide, wooden gate, and Laura withdrew her wand, I realised what it was.

Wards.

"Tom," Laura was saying, wand still held aloft. "Tom, it would help if you could draw your wand too."

"Why?" I questioned. "I assume these are your father's wards, for your family only?"

"They'll let you pass, provided your wand is registered for the first passing, with one of us. I know the spell my father used. Not very complex, but there again he doesn't expect anyone to ever come here." She looked about her briefly "I mean, it's not as if it's very busy here is it? And the house isn't exactly a burglars' dream. Far as I know, at least." she made a face and rolled her eyes, ostensibly thinking about Aster Ames.

"I suppose I'll have to take your word for that." I told her.

She laughed and grinned at me. "That's why we came in the first place! So you can see for yourself!"

I drew my wand slowly, and in silence, an expression of deep concentration on her features, she brought the tip of her wand up to make contact with mine. There was a small flash of red, and then together, just as slowly, just as carefully, she motioned for me to move with her hand, touching our wands together upon the old oak of the gate, and with a creak, it began to open, letting us through.

Laura was glancing over the landscape carefully, as if she was checking for something, or someone.

"Tanbeth's gone home," she said eventually, with faint relief in her voice.

I frowned a little.

"Who's Tanbeth?" I asked, though as I said it, I realised that Aster Ames was unlikely to run this place alone.

Laura looked up and raised an eyebrow. "He's a drunken idiot? No, well..he looks after the animals. But he's always gone by ten, mainly because that's how long it takes him to finish the Firewhisky in his hip flask. Not entirely sure why Father still engages him, that is, assuming he's noticed how little work he actually does. But he's old, and quite mad…just like Father, so by rights, I suppose, they should be the best of friends."

I smiled a little, in spite of myself, and allowed her to lead me along the winding gravel path, and into the grounds of the first, and quite the strangest, wizard's house I would ever see.

It was tall, narrow, and looked very, very dark. Funny how sometimes, houses have a habit of reminding you of their owners, and this one really did, for it's mean exterior, narrow arched windows and even the dull shine of it's high, black roof reminded me of the mean, tight-lipped Frenchman with his oily hair and disapproving face. Around the house, though, by contrast, were beautiful gardens populated with an abundance of roses, herbs and flowers, and for some reason, I had an odd feeling that this was the work of Laura's mother, when she had been alive.

As if she had read my thoughts, Laura said:

"The flowers were planted by my mother, or so I was told. She loved the gardens, and when she died-Dad could never understand it, because she never told him she'd charmed them-but they just kept on coming up, without anyone seeing to them, always just as they used to be. Funny, because she died when we lived in Wales with Dad's work. She'd always loved this house, though. My youngest brother, Sion, was born here, and she always said Wales was too cold, and she wanted to come home. She never did, though."

"I'm sorry," I said, less from sympathy, and more from politeness, but she abandoned the subject as quickly as she had taken it up.

"It's fine, really. I'm just delving into the pits of Ames family history. I'm not getting maudlin on you, don't worry!"

She grinned to show me she really wasn't, and took out a large brass key.

I had no idea what I was really expecting when she took my hand and led me in to the house. But then there we were, standing in a long low kitchen that had the air of not having been lived in for a long time. Dusty herbs hung low on a rack suspended from the ceiling and underneath it, a scrubbed wooden table looking as if it had been well-used, once upon a time, most likely by the three brothers who had grown up and given their lives away.

One of walls was taken up with a white enamel range cooker that looked as neglected as the rest of the room, and there was an ancient black grate, the fire looking long since stamped out. The whole place had the air of sorry neglect, like there was still someone there but it's days of use by a happy, noisy family had long passed. I tried to picture Laura living in the too-large, silent house with only the sardonic, disapproving Aster Ames for company, but couldn't, no matter how I tried.

"Sorry," Laura said, for no apparent reason.

"Pardon?" I looked at her, and she shrugged, indicating the room.

"This place. Not exactly Grand Hotel."

I smiled. "How come you know a Muggle film?" I questioned, aware of how little she knew about Muggles in general. She laughed.

"When we lived in Cardiff," she said, "Reuben and I sneaked out to the Muggle cinema. Once only, of course…..I was really little at the time, only about six. Father went mad when he found out. He hates Muggles, and he thinks their stuff is dangerous. But I think it's funny."

Privately, I agreed with Ames, possibly for the first and only time, but I kept this opinion to myself. She led me on throught the house, putting on a false English tone like a toady London estate Agent giving a guided tour… with heavy sarcasm, and on we went, though the narrow hallways, through what looked like a downstairs living room where photographs in tarnished frames had been turned to face the wall, the door to a dusty wine cellar,which she poked her head around and I followed, quickly withdrawing when something dark with a tail scurried past into a corner, and finally, we came out on the other side of the house, looking up a flight of very steep wooden stairs lined with a frayed and faded rose-coloured runner.

Laura made to climb the stairs when I noticed the small door underneath them. It was low and painted dark green, with a tatty brass handle. And on a small, mahogany table outside it, were two books.

I bent down and picked them up, turning them over in my hands.

Laura paused and came back down the staircase to see what I was looking at.

She went a little pale when she saw me looking at the books.

"Better not. Father goes berserk with anyone touching his precious books. He probably got called away and forgot to lock them up."

That seemed very likely, for the two volumes were not ones likely to be found in Hogwarts Library. They were ancient, rare tomes only likely to be found by the most ardent, and yes……well-connected collector.

I considered this for a moment as I replaced the two volumes back where I had found them.

"Does your father have any more of these?" I asked.

Laura furrowed her brows briefly. " Yes, but -" she gestured vaguely, as if unwilling to answer the question.

"He has all his stuff in his office. And before you ask, I'm not allowed. He'd murder me if I so much as placed my hand on the doorknob."

She obviously saw my eyes flicker back towards the door because she looked me in the eye and said:

"Promise me you wouldn't, Tom."

"Promise I wouldn't do what?" I asked, though we both knew what she meant, and she knew that too by the look she was giving me.

"Go in there. Promise." She reached out and took both my hands.

I pulled her to me and kissed the top of her head, noting a particularly severe portrait staring back at me from the wall behind her.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

My mouth felt sour, though, as I said the words, because I suspected that I was lying to her...

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TBC... **

Do you think Tom is lying? Tell me what you reckon in a review! ; )

The second half of this chapter will be up very shortly.


	17. Part Sixteen: Ames Farm: Part Two

**Disclaimer: Anything you know is not mine etc.**

**Thank you to the very nice people who left me a review! I really do appreciate it...thank you so much: )**

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Part Sixteen

**Ames Farm Part Two**

**"_Sir...I was wondering what you know about...about Horcruxes..."_**

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I followed her up the set of narrow steps, jumping over the second to last which was so rotten it had already fallen in like the rest of the house seemed to keep threatening to do, with all its creaks and groans.

We arrived on a landing with some more doors and dusty rooms going off it, but Laura made for the end, where another flight of stairs went up, disappearing into the roof.

"My room," she said by way of explanation.

At the top of the second tiny dark staircase, I cast the Lumos spell to light the way and looked around at where we were. The was a very small wooden door in front of us, with no threshold, but coming directly off the stairwell.A couple of curious hatches were to either side of us where the eaves of the house met at an odd angle.

Laura opened the tiny door, shoving it as it stuck and disappeared inside. I had to stoop to follow after her, this house had obviously not been built with anyone over six feet tall in mind.

**O O O O O**

We were at the very top of the house. From the small window I could see the sea and the cove. It was an odd panorama for France's Southern coast, given the distinct fact that it was April in 1943. I half expected to see Nazi ships and planes on the horizon, but the view was as peaceful and as uninterrupted as the picture postcards Mrs Cole would sometimes receive from her nieces in the country, before the war.

The sea was a dim, still blue, and white sands stretched beyond the farm and along the rocky cove. I had seen the sea before, but it had only been on the summer outings from the Orphanage where there always seemed to be some sort of divine intervention whereby it would always rain on the day we went. This, though, was quite different from those damp grey beaches.

Laura came up behind me and put her hands around my waist, standing on tiptoe to plant a kiss behind my ear.

"Like it?"

"It's beautiful," I answered, and meant it, because it really was.

"Better than this dump, then!" said Laura, laughing as she flung herself down onto an ancient white canopy bed in the centre of the room.

Laura's room looked the same as the rest of the house in the respect that it seemed to be trapped in a century ago without any changes made to it whatsoever. But unlike the rest of the house, here the fireplace had at least been raked and cleaned . A large walnut armoire stood against one wall, the door unlocked to reveal a mixture of robes and to my surprise, a few articles of Muggle-looking clothing. On the floor of the wardrobe, I was sure I could see what looked like a crumpled Beauxbatons uniform. In one corner, a solitaire board and a broken china doll in a pink dress had been abandoned under shelves and shelves of books.

Inspecting them, I saw again that there were even one or two of the better known Muggle titles and some peculiar stories of what seemed to be a Muggle Boarding school, though goodness knows how she had come by these. The rest were all wizarding books either of a practical nature or Wizard novels, mainly historical, and on the end of the shelf sat a wooden paint box with the name 'Sion J.Ames' written in pokerwork letters burned into the wood.

I noticed she'd stuck some pictures onto the mirror over the fireplace. She watched without saying anything as I unstuck the nearest one and took a closer look. It was curled at the corners and brown with age, and on the back, someone has scrawled the words 'Rebecca, 3rd October, 1926'. I turned it over, and saw what looked like an older Laura, holding a newborn baby and waving weakly at the photographer.

As if she'd read my mind, Laura said "My mother. Chris took that. My oldest brother, he had just become an Auror at the time. The baby is me."

"Your mother looks like you." I observed. "Who are the others of?"

Laura smiled. "That one," (she pointed to the picture to the left of the one I had just seen which showed three dark haired, pale young men, grinning and waving. The youngest looked in his early twenties, holding up a new-looking china doll that wore a pink dress, and laughing as he made it wave its painted hand at the camera as well.

"That one is of my brothers.Chris…Christoph, that is, is about thirty-three, which would make Sion twenty-nine and Reuben twenty-two. That's the last holiday before-" she fell silent and rubbed her face with the back of her hand.

"Before the owl came, anyway, and by that I don't mean the letter from school. I took the photo myself. I was ten."

**O O O O O**

We left the small room and the steep stairs and the dusty old house soon after at Laura's suggestion we spend the rest of the day on the beach in the cove. She had rifled through the armoire and changed her clothes to some of the vaguely Muggle looking garb I had noticed in there earlier, a short, square- necked dress in a pale pink floral print and a light straw hat which she held in one hand and wouldn't put on, despite claims she needed it to 'keep off the sun'.

She'd been a bit melancholy since her brothers were mentioned, but it seemed to pass as we navigated the sandy rock path that led down to the cove.

Laura tracked along in front of me, free of the burden of school books and long robes, and with the agility borne of someone who knew these paths well. I took off my jacket, and followed her in my shirt sleeves. It was getting hot.

The sand was hot too, and I could scarcely believe it was only April. Laura could swim, and I watched her transfigure her frock into a pink bathing dress and swim the length of the cove and back before coming back to join me on the sand, saying she was too tired to do any more.

We spent the day there, together, in that cove, and I was content to watch her, all laughter and high spirits with no frowning Aster Ames to steal her sunshine. I realised she likely had a horrible life at home with the old man, and for the first time in my life, I felt a flash of understanding and empathy for another human being. She deserved so much more, not least for loving me.

Evening found us entwined in each others arms, she leaning back against me, between my knees and leaning back to kiss me in between the pair of us watching the sun go down slowly over the water. The sea that night looked as if it were on fire, and I thought, of all the things in the world, this was romance.

Funny, then, from what I was thinking, that she chose that moment to say to me,

"Tom?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?" I questioned, drawing myself out of my sudden introspective mood.

"For putting up with me….for liking me, I suppose. For not thinking badly of me for this place….she gestured vaguely back at the farm hidden up on the cliff top…I mean, at least, I hope you don't…" I felt her tense a little under my arms as she said the words.

I shook my head and smiled, though she couldn't see me. "Why would I think badly of you?" I asked.

"You might." she answered darkly, still looking across the sea at the fiery setting sun.

"When you saw London with me?" I asked her "That was a lot worse, surely."

I felt a slight tremor in her ribs as she laughed - a little bitterly - but nonetheless, with good humour.

"Maybe. But maybe not." she said. "Doesn't seem to have done you any harm…you'll be Head Boy, and I bet your mother would have been proud of you. Father tends to notice the bad stuff about me." she muttered. " But nothing good. And though I loved my brothers, you know here -" she paused, as if debating what way to phrase her next remark, "They were all he cared about. He didn't want to even hear about a daughter. He wouldn't so much as name me, after Mother died. Eventually, my brothers just chose a name each. Christoph _said_ that the first Laura was his pet _rat_ when he was fourteen I never did find out if he was just putting me on..." Laura rolled her eyes with comic despair.

"It's lucky your father did have you," I said quietly, "With your blood."

"Do you really believe all that stuff about blood?" she asked. "I'm not sure I do…..after all, what does it mean, really? I mean, are you really just a mix of what your parents were, a bloodline, a heritage, or are you really your own person? What would it be like if you grew up away from all that? What would you be like then? What would you have been like if you never found out your mother was magic?"

I considered her question for a moment. All the events at the Orphanage flashed in front of my eyes and I realised that I would have known anyway. I told her so.

"I think it finds you." I said. "It's destiny. Like your bloodline, and mine….."

She giggled

"Great things?" she asked, smiling.

I nodded, only half jokingly

"Great things. Possibly terrible things... But great, always. Of course."

"Because it's destiny?" she asked me, grinning.

I stood up, and pulled her into my arms to make our way back up the cliff top to the tall house.

"Destiny." I agreed.

**O O O O O**

I think destiny is partly what you make it.

And I didn't feel guilty that night when I was in bed with her, when she was lying underneath me with eyes screwed shut and mewling in a distracted kind of pleasure as I pushed her into the mattress hard, in the bed she'd slept in ever since she was a child. I liked it when she pulled my hair just as I was finishing, but she knew what I really enjoyed was to bite her shoulder and see it bruise the next day, like ownership, like a mark. It felt good and wrong at the same time, to be doing this here in her bed surrounded by the relics of her childhood. Maybe I ought to have felt bad about it, even refused, but we both knew, as I pulled her dress over her head and she began to push my shirt off of my shoulders, that there was no chance of that happening at all.

**O O O O O**

Later, when she was dozy and flushed and tired, she pulled the ancient not-quite-white broderie anglaise sheet over the two of us and lay back to sleep. The door was warded and bolted, even though there was no chance of Aster Ames return. This was, of course, my suggestion.

She still had her arms around me, and I _did_ try to force other thoughts out of my mind too, in order to sleep, but one continued to nag, buzzing in the back of my brain like it was trying to bore into my consciousness.

What was that part of the Bible I heard at Church, about temptation and the Devil?

I didn't believe in all that stuff, of course, but I kept thinking about what exactly lay behind the peeling green paint that concealed Aster Ames sacred study, a room so private not even his daughter or his wife were permitted inside?

I don't think I made the decision consciously. But whatever decided for me, I felt my feet make contact with the cold wooden floorboards as Laura slept on. I felt about for my boots and put my shirt and jersey back on, retrieving my wand from where it had lain next to me on the bed, to replace it in its usual safe keeping place, up my left sleeve for quick access. And then I headed for the stairs.

Laura was still sound asleep when I left the room, so exhausted that she hadn't even noticed I had gone. I disarmed the wards I had set up earlier and glanced back over to the bed with my hand on the door handle before I left just to make sure.For a second I thought she was watching me, standing there about to betray her trust, but when I looked back, her eyes were closed. I closed mine, too, took a breath, and silenced the door hinges and then the stairs.

Whatever her father was hiding in his study, if the books from earlier were anything to go by, could be both very interesting and of substantial use to me in my personal researches.

I navigated the unfamiliar staircases warily, being careful to remember the missing stair on the larger of the two. It wouldn't do to have Laura wake in the morning and find me with a broken leg, uncovering both my treachery and my folly in having neglected the all-important details of successful subterfuge.

But I arrived at the door of Ames' study, both legs intact and wand drawn, wondering exactly how the Frenchman had sealed the door.

I raised my wand and spoke the words of the revealing spell. Seconds later, the air in front of the study door shimmered and a green glow appeared in front of it. It was as I thought. The door was indeed locked and warded.

The odd thing about it was that the wards were obviously weak and suddenly, a thought occurred to me. I reached out, slowly, and placed my hand on the door handle, whispering tentatively:

"_Alohomora_".

The door clicked, and the lock gave. I had been right. Aster Ames had clearly believed that nobody would ever come here, or even if they did, that they would never be able to pass through the front gates.

Because the study door had only been warded against Laura.

**O O O O O**

I stepped forward into the room behind the door with the peeling green paint, and looked around in wonder at what I saw. Books, rare, out of print,and in all shapes, sizes and colours lined the walls around a large desk topped with leather the colour of blood. The desk was covered in various papers and documents, and at one end of the room stood a battered couch and two armchairs upholstered in the same murky, fluid red; a drinks cabinet next to them, where Ames entertained Slughorn, no doubt.

I almost jumped as I caught sight of a black cat standing up and arching its back upon the sideboard, which was half covered in more books and papers. I stared into its eyes, one blue, one yellow for a few seconds before I realised it was not a real cat. At least, not any longer. Its' eyes were glossy, yet lifeless, a faint covering of dust collecting along the curve of its prominent spine. I turned away from the ugly creature's glassy, accusing stare, and walked towards the shelves.

I did not know, until years later, that at that moment, I was standing in the middle of one of the oldest and most expensive collections of spell books in Europe. My only thought was of the torn-out chapter of the old book at Hogwarts.

Was it possible that Ames had a copy? I scanned the shelves quickly, looking for the now-familiar green binding, but all Ames seemed to have were just very complex and incredibly old, including several titles written by Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Many of the books were in his own language, French, indeed, most of then were, though he clearly also read in English, German and Dutch, if the other titles were anything to go by. There were four enormous volumes by Nicolas Flamel the renowned alchemist, alongside "Muggles and Myths", "The Dark Arts Disarmed", and "Magic and Memory", by one Albus Dumbledore. I sneered at these last, and raised my wand.

"_Manifesto..." _I whispered.

The locating spell. It led me to a green glow hovering like a will-o-wisp over a small, low shelf right at the end of the row. It held only three books. Two were thin, and had fallen over onto their sides. But one was a squat, green volume, with dark writing on the spine……

_**"Magick Most Evile"**_

My hands felt cool and clammy as I bent down and picked it up. The banned subject at Hogwarts... if what I thought was true, then I held in my hands the last piece of the jigsaw.

Hastily, I stumbled over to the desk, slamming the book down on it and searching for the missing seventh chapter.

There it was, intact, in front of me. I seized my wand again, quickly muttering a spell to translate the ancient words on the page, and quickly began to read

The noise that interrupted me just seconds later was so quiet I almost didn't look up. A sharp intake of breath from the doorway, a flash of white nightgown thrown hastily on...Laura was standing there, eyes wide and full of tears,just staring and staring.

"Tom-" The words formed on her dry lips like a dreadful effort.

"Tom...what are you doing? You promised------"

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**To be continued...**

**Not great news for Tom, then... please review, I love to know how I'm doing...**

**I don't know if the _'Manifesto' _spell is actually canon or I read it in a fanfic, but kudos to whoever made it up. It wasn't me...**

**Quote obviously by Tom to Sluggy in HBP...by JK Rowling.**


	18. Part Seventeen: Unforgivable

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize...etc.**

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_Authors note: There's a reference to the meaning of 'Voldemort' in this chapter. For those who don't know, it means in French to steal death. There is another meaning where it means 'Flight from death' which I think might have been the original idea behind the name._

_Some sensitive issues now, please mind the M as always : ) _

_**Many, many thanks to all you who left me reviews last chapter! Thank you so much..I hope you like this one!**_

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**Part Seventeen**

**Unforgivable**

**_

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_**

It was an automatic reaction, and I never thought, beforehand, about doing it. I didn't even look at her, just walked straight past, with a purpose, and she never tried to stop me. The last thing I saw before I turned down the staircase was Laura crossing the room and picking the book back up off the desk where I had left it.

I unlocked the kitchen door with my wand and stepped out onto the pathway. I didn't hear her come after me, and I don't think I really expected her to anyway.

The moon was up, and the farm lay cool and still, but suddenly, it was an ugly night.

**O O O O O**

Back at school, I threw myself into the secret meetings, for now, without her, they were all I had.

She wouldn't even look at me since she had returned to school the day after I had left the farm. I had left my cloak on her bed there, too, yet even this I found in a pile thrown hastily onto my bed shortly after her return. I shook it out and searched the pockets feeling pathetic, but still hoping for a note, or something, some sign or word, but there was nothing, just returning the lost property, I thought bitterly.

What I had read had proved invaluable of course, as I knew it would be, but although my Slytherin soul triumphed over this victory more than anything, for now with luck, my ambitions could be realised, I wanted her there, too, by my side as I proved myself and realised my future, my path to _power_.

After a while, though,her behaviour began to get more and more peculiar as I watched her around the castle, waiting for an opportunity. And she still wouldn't look at me, even in hate, she was even paler, and began to noticeably skip meals and sometimes lessons.

People were talking, but she still wouldn't talk to me. And I missed her. So much.

**O O O O O**

"Thinking of taking up Quidditch, my _Lord_?" asked Abraxas, trying clearly to suppress a smirk as we went down to breakfast.

I treated him to my very best sneer, and he went silent for a bit, before adding:

"I saw you talking to that girl from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team before lunch yesterday."

"And what of it?" I answered. "I can speak to whom I choose, surely. Must I have a reason, an ulterior motive?"

Abraxas looked uncomfortable, clearly not having intended to be drawn into a disagreement with me.

"No…of course not. But then, it's you, isn't it. So an ulterior motive might well be a good guess."

I grinned nastily.

"Indeed, Malfoy. But I would be unlikely to share them with you, wouldn't I?" I told him.

"Yes, of course….." Abraxas said quickly, giving me a quick sideways glance.

"I just thought…..thought that…."

"_What _did you think?" I enquired.

"I just thought you might have been asking her to the Ball, is all."

My heart clenched, and I faced him angrily.

"I wasn't asking her anything, Abraxas." I lied. "I barely know her name."

"Her name's Laura Ames." Abraxas supplied helpfully. "I smashed her brooms-…"

"I _know_ what you did to her broomstick, Abraxas."

"Yes, well…Polly likes her for some reason. Anyway, did you ask anyone to the ball with you?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"I'm rather busy with more important things than chasing girls, Abraxas. Especially the kind that you seem to favour."

"If that's supposed to mean Lucy Rosier, we broke up." he said sulkily.

I gave a snort of derisive laughter.

"Well, you would have to be a fool not to see that one coming anyway, Malfoy. She's been with just about every Seventh year after hours since before and after she met you. And quite a few others besides."

"You…you knew about that?" Abraxas asked, after a moment.

"I do prefect duty." I said, evasively.

"You might have told me, Tom."

"Might I? I thought you knew what she was like..perhaps you even preferred it that way." I sneered. "And I have to go to the library before breakfast, so if you'll excuse me--"

I swept past him, laughing silently to myself. I had enjoyed turning the knife for the smug, well-off Malfoy. I hadn't really needed to go to the library, I was just trying to get rid of him, so that I could double back past Ravenclaw tower, and hopefully catch Laura alone again.

Abraxas had been right, though. I had been talking to her, or rather, trying to talk to her. And I had spoken to her that time in the courtyard, told her that I could explain, and I probably could have…now I had had the time to formulate some vaguely convincing lies.

She wouldn't listen to me, though. She hadn't even spoken to me, just shook her head and refused to meet my eyes, and then almost pushed past me, as she hurried back into the school.

There was no need to take a detour, however. I literally collided with her on the back stairs to the library.

She had obviously just come from there, because she had an armful of books. They scattered all over the floor, and I had just whipped out my wand to hex the idiot who hadn't been looking where they were going, when I saw who it was.

I must have knocked her quite hard. She had taken a step back and was leaning against the stone wall of the stairwell with her eyes closed, and her arms clasped over her stomach. She groaned, and when she looked up at me, I could see her face was very white.

"Laura…I…." I began, reaching out and attempting to steady her.

She pulled away sharply, and swung round to face me.

"Stop following me everywhere!" she spat angrily, pulling out her wand and aiming it at the fallen books. I ignored her accusation, and drew my own wand.

"Allow me." I muttered a spell and the books stacked themselves neatly at her elbow on the window ledge.

"Thank you so much, Mr Prefect." Laura said sarcastically. "Remind me again how great you are."

" I was only trying to help, Laura." I returned, to her furious look. " You look as if you could do with it…if I say it myself."

"It's none of your business what I do and don't need, Riddle." she said, through her teeth.

" I know that I don't need _you_. So get out of the way. I have Potions."

"What a coincidence, so have I." I said, sarcastically. " So perhaps I should carry these for you?" I pointed a finger at the stack of tomes on the sill.

"I don't need you to do anything for me." she said, grabbing them, and groaning again suddenly. "Leave me alone, and stop following me around. I don't want anything to do with you after what you did.You never even liked me."

"You wouldn't let me explain…." I started. But she had already pushed past me, and was climbing the steps again, bag in one hand and library books balanced precariously in the other, looking ready to fall again at any moment. She turned back though, a few steps above me, so that her eyes were for once level with my own.

"I wouldn't let you tell me a lot of lies you mean, _Tom. _"

She paused, and then said, "He found out, you know. He blamed me, of course, how could I tell him otherwise, about _you_? He actually _hit_ me." -she pulled her hair back and I saw an angry red weal turning blue on her cheekbone. My stomach turned over. _Bastard. _

"If you would just listen to me-" I said, but she cut me off.

"I don't want to listen to you. You're a liar. Nothing but a hateful liar. And I was an idiot to think you liked me, with you and all your stupid friends-sycophants…all of them. Go and talk to them, Tom Riddle. Or should I say, my _Lord_."

I froze at her words.

"What did you say?" I said, quietly.

"I heard what they call you. I was listening. That idiot brother of Polly Malfoy, and all the rest. I don't know what you're up to…but 'Voldemort'?"

"It means-" I started.

"I _know_ what it means." Laura said,in a low and deadly voice.

She turned on her heel abruptly and ran up the stairs without giving me another word. I didn't make the library, and I was late for the Potions lesson, but I slipped in, muttering an excuse about the Prefect's meeting running over, and expecting to be able to catch Laura's eye with a meaningful look as I took my seat, but she wasn't there, the seat next to Elodie Prince empty, just like the time after our first kiss all those months ago.

Abraxas passed me a note asking about the next time and date of our meeting, and I was forced to concentrate on making a potion to improve concentration. Oh, the irony. I even considered drinking mine, before Slughorn whipped it away to test.

**O O O O O**

A fortnight later, I was back in the Room, with the other members filing out a few at a time to avoid suspicion. It must have been a little after midnight, and when they had all dispersed, I remained behind, to read a little more of the books that the room had provided. It was a long time before I felt tired enough to be able to sleep, and the grandmother clock in the room had struck two long before I rose from the battered leather couch in the corner of the room, and prepared to leave for my bed at long last.

The night had been cold for late April, and I had flung on my thickest cloak over robes and a jumper, all in black , so I moved through the castle like a shadow, and almost as silent. Nobody was to be seen, not even the caretaker Pringle, or his nasty little yapping dog.

I reached the second floor and was about to cut past the bathrooms and onto the back stairs to the dungeons, when I saw the flicker of white out of the corner of my eye, and instinctively, I turned to see a figure in a voluminous nightdress disappearing into the girls bathroom.

At first I thought it might have been Myrtle Miles, and I wondered what she was doing out of the basement dormitories of Hufflepuff at this hour. I walked quickly, silently , to the door, hoping to have the pleasure of reporting the Mudblood, and opened it just a crack listening to see if there really was someone in there, or if it was my mind playing tricks. It was then I heard the groan, and a hushed whimper, and I knew all of a sudden, I knew who it was.

Laura was bent almost double over one of the washbasins shivering and crying. I stood in the doorway watching her, too stunned to speak, and as I did so, she retched violently into the basin in front of her, clutching the edge of the cold porcelain in an effort to stay on her feet, which were bare. Finally, she raised her head and that was when she caught sight of my reflection watching her in the mirror, and she turned sharply, fury evident and her face blanched.

"What in hell are you doing here? Get out!" she shrieked, but instead of doing as she asked, I took a step further into the room and closed the door behind me.

"What in hell are _you _doing, Laura? If you're ill, shouldn't you be in the hospital wing?" I whispered, furiously.

"I don't need the hospital wing," she said angrily, not meeting my eyes, though I could see the red rims of her own, along with the tear tracks on her cheeks, only too clearly.

"Why won't you speak to me?" I demanded, as she turned back to the sink.

"You know full well why not." she snarled.

I was taken aback and furious at the venom in her voice, and even more so when she gasped and retched again over the basin. Quickly, I crossed the remaining space between the two of us and tried to hold her, tried to put my arm around her shoulders, but she only rested against me for half a second before she seemed to remember that she hated me, and wrenched herself away again.

"Go away!" she said, through clenched teeth. "I don't need you interfering."

I grabbed her wrist, and pulled her around to face me, looking into her eyes. I could see the tears still clinging to her eyelashes and I was struck with the bizarre urge to kiss them, yet at the same time I wanted to force her to answer me, to justify herself. She struggled and tried to pull herself away again, but this time I held on. We were almost fighting as she tried to reach the door, and briefly, she twisted, causing me to lose my grip, and she scrambled free.

She was halfway to the door when I caught up again. This time I seized her with both arms around her middle and held on, forcing her to stop, and she did, quite suddenly, going limp in my arms with another short gasp, and that was when the realisation hit me.

She felt different. I noticed in the cove that she had put on a little weight, but now her stomach felt swollen, not flat and soft, like the night we had first made love to each other four months previously. Four months ago.

Four months.

"Laura," I said, quietly, incredulously. "Laura….you're having a baby."

I didn't know what reaction I was even expecting from her, but I let go of her, conscious of the pressure on her stomach and she stood up, smoothing her nightdress with great concentration, refusing to look at me, and walked slowly back to steady herself upon the porcelain basin once more.

"You're having a baby," I repeated, following her and putting my hands on her shoulders to kiss her neck from behind. She looked up at me, catching my eye in the glass of the cracked mirror before looking back down at the scratched brass taps.

"Don't." she muttered. "Just get off me."

"But you're……"

"Just get off me!" she snapped.

"But it's _mine_." I said. It wasn't meant to be a question.

"Of course it's yours!" she spat. "Do you think I made a habit of doing what we did? Do you think that there was anyone else? You were the first and the last and you know that quite well. Now go away."

I felt my temper rise, but I didn't move my arms from around her. Instead, I pressed closer, running one hand over her hot forehead to smooth back the wild dark hair, with the other around her chest…breathing on her ear to whisper softly.

"You enjoyed what we did, Laura. You wanted me to, and I don't regret it…..such a shame that you do…..and a little late for regrets now, too, so it seems…."

Laura tensed under my grip and I heard her draw in a sharp breath.

"You're vile and you are twisted, Tom Riddle. Sick, not to mention a liar and a thief. And I can't think of anything worse than……than this. Than having _your_ child. Get your hateful hands off me and leave me alone."

I smiled a twisted smile into the cracked glass and her horrified face.

"I'm afraid I can't do that Laura," I said quietly, moving my hands down to stroke the small swelling of her abdomen. "My property too, you see. I'm afraid we're in this very much together."

"Property! Don't be ridiculous!"

"Did you not love me, Laura? Did you lie? Tell me the truth!" I commanded.

Laura looked at her feet.

"I can't forgive what you did. I trusted you." she whispered.

" But I could explain, Laura, if you would only listen."

"I don't want to hear it. I know why you did it. I saw what you had in your hands. I read it, after you'd gone."

"You think you know. But you're wrong. Forgive me?"

Laura shook her head but didn't say anything. I had another idea.

"I can help you with the sickness, at least? If you keep missing classes, eventually someone will find out, they'll guess…and what if they tell your father?" I knew the mention of Aster Ames would push the desired buttons. It did.

She rubbed a despairing hand across her wet face.

"I'm sick all the time," she muttered, miserably.

"Let me take care of you," I said into her ear, and sliding my hands to hold both of hers, to which she shivered involuntarily.

I don't know exactly how I managed to persuade her, but she let me steer her along the darkened corridors and down the stairs, occasionally looking across at me with a look of suspicion, but she didn't say anything. Neither would she hold my hand.

Still we slipped into the deserted Potions classroom

The Potions classroom was dark and quiet. Somewhere, somebody had left a tap on and the staccato 'drip, drip' reverberated around the room, but there was no time to worry about that now.

"Sit there,"I told her shortly, indicating one of the old and scratched wooden benches.

Shivering, but silent, she climbed up and sat on the desktop so that I could see the dust on the soles of her feet as she hugged her knees to her body in an effort to keep warm.

Little feet. I remember them wrapped around my hips, clutching my body against hers, but wasn't that why we were here now?

A part of me felt as if I had walked into some bizarre dream. It seemed an insult to my own intelligence, to overlook something such as this, but I knew if I was brutally honest to myself this consequence had never even occurred to me. At least, not until about twenty minutes ago, as I watched Laura heave over the sink in the girls bathroom, when it became horribly obvious. Maybe I shouldn't believe her, but then why would she lie? She'd clearly tried to conceal the truth. Even from me, I thought angrily. Even from me. And hadn't I a right to know about my own child, the next heir of Slytherin?

I worked deftly and quickly, in silence, partly because I didn't trust myself to speak, and partly because I was ever conscious of Professor Slughorn turning up at any moment. My reputation would be shattered.

Evidently, she felt the same way, for she maintained that silence, though she watched me closely as I raided the store cupboard for supplies.I lit the cauldron with a flick of my wand, sliced and crushed the ingredients for the potion and eventually, I handed her a small flask of liquid.

"It'll stop the sickness." I told her.

"Thank you for nothing." she mumbled, looking down at the stone floor.

"Why are you being like this?" I asked her, through clenched teeth, stepping closer and putting my hands on her shoulders to force her to look up at me.

For the first time, Laura actually looked furious.

"For a genius, Tom, you're remarkably stupid." she spat, trying to shake my hands off her, but I held on, digging my fingers in hard.

"You can't pretend I'm not part of your life now, Laura." I hissed. "You'll have to listen to me now."

"I don't have to listen to anything you say. And I won't, either."

She pushed me away and slid off the desk, still holding the potion.

"Why don't you make something to sort this out properly?" she said suddenly

" Or is this the best you can do?" she held up the flask contemptuously. "Because even if I'm not being sick, I'm still….." she stopped short, clearly unwilling to say the word, as if the admission would stamp upon it a seal of finality.

"Sort it out? 'Properly'?" I said. "And what is that meant to mean?"

Laura had her hand on the door handle. She turned back to look at me.

"Tom, there's another potion….but it's incredibly difficult, and….."

"No potion is too difficult for me." I cut her off.

"I know," she replied and raised one black eyebrow, biting her lip nervously as she continued, "So……… why don't you make it for me?"

I narrowed my eyes. "And…… what Potion, exactly, are we discussing?" I asked coldly, feeling that I knew the answer already.

She paused, as if testing my powers of deduction. Then she drew in a long breath and said:

"The Terminus Potion.I don't want to have it. I can't."

**O O O O O**

"No."

Laura looked up at me sharply, a note of panic obvious in her eyes, through the glaze of lack of sleep.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" she whispered.

I folded my arms.

"I meant no. And to clarify, that 'no' means that yes, I am more than capable of making the damn potion, having made it before-" I stopped as Laura gasped in horror.

"Not for the results of my doing, stupid girl!" I hissed. "For Malfoy, of course. And some of the other Seventh year idiots. For the right price. Because I can. Because what do I care for Malfoy or Zabini's bastards? But not for you. No. Not for my child."

"It's not just your child, though, is it, Tom?" Laura said weakly. "And it's out of the question. I can't have it. I'll be the laughing stock. My father….he'd kill me. I'd be spat at in the street. Do you know what I would be called? The names they have for unwed mothers? Even in the Wizarding world?"

I glared at her.

"Marry me, then." I said.

"What?"

"Marry me.You could…help me, with what I'm doing. You could be part of it too."

"I can't…….." she spluttered. "Don't be absurd. Of course I can't marry you. We're still at school, which makes both of your propositions more than a little unrealistic, unless you have momentarily lost touch with reality. And no, I don't _want_ to be part of whatever it is you're doing, because it's very unlikely to be anything decent or honest, as I found out. So no. I won't marry you. Even if you begged me." she said bitterly, shoving back angrily the loose hair which had fallen in her face.

I stared at her and she stared straight back at me, an unspoken challenge, for a very long moment. Part of me wanted to curse her, slap her, hurt her, but another part wanted to reach out and promise her the world, that everything was going to be all right, because I could look after her, take her away from the cruel world and cruel judgement and make our own rules. But I said nothing, just held her gaze until she lowered her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, raising the flask in her left hand slightly. "For the potion."

And with that, she opened the door and was gone.

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**_To be continued..._**

_D**on't you just love it when everything starts to go wrong...? Please review!**_


	19. Part Eighteen: A Reluctant Invitation

**Disclaimer: Humble fanfic only**!

**Rating: M.**

**Feedback : Please!**

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**Part Eighteen**

**A Reluctant Invitation**

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Lying back in my bed afterwards , feeling faintly nauseated, my thoughts drifted to the Orphanage. My room overlooked the main street, and I had a clear view of the front door of the house that Mrs Cole and the cook would whisper about. 

Number sixty-eight. Women would tap surreptitiously upon the rust-coloured door, and always after dark.

The jowly old hag who lived there was an aged spinster, lumbering and fleshy, with near set, greedy little eyes giving her the countenance of an overlarge sow.

She would open the door equally surreptitiously and after a cursory glance up and down the street (but never into the windows above) she would pull the unfortunate callers into the house.

Sometimes, there would be muffled screams and wails. Other times, there would be nothing to hear, but always, the women who had gone in would emerge later, clutching their stomachs and ghostly pale as they staggered away as best they could in the amber glow of the streetlight on the corner.

It was just before the war broke out that one of the women who went in, didn't come back out, didn't emerge to stagger home to their ignorant parents, boarding school dormitories, or more usually, many other children already starving from insufficient meals.

Later, I lay in bed and watched the blue lights from the motor cars parked in the street below play on the wall through a chink in the thin curtains. Nobody saw the woman at number sixty-eight again, after that.

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**O O O O O**

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I almost forgot about the Ball. Actually, I did forget. Around me, the twitters and trivial whispers slowed and stopped, silenced by my own thoughts. I didn't even think on it any further until Slughorn asked me outright who the lucky girl was. 

"I'm sorry, Sir?" I replied, with more guilt on my face than I would have liked, when he put the question to me after his latest party, and actually dug me in the ribs.

"Tom…Tom, no lady friend yet?"ejaculated Slughorn, with genuine surprise at my blank look.

"Ah……no Sir… studying..you know… there's no time ..." I lied.

"Saturday, Tom, Saturday!" he said, knowingly, indicating clearly what I already knew, I was a Prefect, and had tonight and tomorrow to find a suitable partner.

I turned and left, heading down the passageway and almost collided with the ample bosom of Lucy Louisa Rosier, whose breasts always seemed to precede her arrival anywhere. She stopped and giggled, smoothing her low-cut blouse.

"Hello, Tom." she said.

Suddenly, I heard myself saying

"Lucy, what a pleasant surprise. Whatever are you doing walking alone in the corridors this late?"

_As if I couldn't guess._

Evan's older sister gave another of her false, tinkling laughs, and adjusted her clothing, seeming not in the least surprised by my sudden show of interest in her.

"Just….having a….a late bath," she tinkled again, her gaze shifting left, then back again, as if she were half-expecting me to turn on her suddenly and deduct points from Hufflepuff.

"Of course you were." I said, charmingly, and paused. "No Abraxas, tonight, then? Why, I were certain you pair were never to be parted from each other…..but… I looked around the dank corridors, where the only sign of life was a guttering candle stuck in a wall holder……. here you are."

Deliberately feigning ignorance, I watched her almost physically squirm before she spoke again.

"We….er….he….er….well, we aren't going out actually, any longer, Tom."

_I know that, you whore._

I gave a look of manufactured surprise.

"Really? I never knew. And with the May Day Ball so close……do I take it, Lucy Louisa, that this is my chance at last?" I leaned in close as if about to try and steal a kiss, touching her cheek with my fingertips….the older girl gasped.

"Tom!" she said, though I noted no anger in her voice, a token protest. Easy .

I pulled back suddenly, smoothing my hair and looking away from her.

"Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. You will, of course, have found somebody else to take you to the Ball. Goodnight, Lucy."

I turned, straightening my cloak and waited for her reaction. It came at once, almost, she stood up a little straighter and said:

"Tom…?"

I turned, with a look of polite waiting on my face to hide the enjoyment as I heard her eagerly agree to attend the May Day Ball on my arm. I had known that she would, or I would never have asked. I liked to know what people were thinking, and Lucy Rosier was remarkably easy to read.

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**O O O O O**

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I wondered if I should have asked Laura after all. She was the first and only person I had thought of going with when the Ball was announced, but that was before that day, before France. If I asked her now, she'd likely only stop short of hexing me or slapping my face. 

But _she_ would have the rest of her life to get used to me. I would find a way to make her see my point of view…... I would go to the Ball with the Rosier tart to see the look on Abraxas' face, and to see Laura, and who she would be with. Because I would make sure they or anyone else never touched her. However much it took. I would drag myself through these next two days and then tell her, tell her all the things I should have said. I would not accept no for an answer.

Nothing from here was ever going to be the same.

Later, while the others practiced Quidditch, I took my trunk out from under the bed and pulled out my old dress robes. Performing a quick cleaning spell, I held them up and inspected them. Black velvet, a slight collar, bought secondhand from Knockturn Alley. They had suited me well, then, but I had become taller. A few charms later, the velvet was restored to it's former glory days (which I supposed were sometime in the Eighteenth Century, judging by the labels) and lengthened them another five inches. They would do.

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**O O O O O**

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I left the dormitory last on the night of the Ball. For a start, I didn't want to go in the crowd of others already milling up the stairs to the Great Hall, preferring instead to gather my thoughts alone before facing the social occasion, and not least to avoid seeing Laura on the way. Oh, yes, I wanted to see her all right, but I wanted to catch her off guard, not in the middle of some corridor like before. 

Peolpe had already begun to congregate in the hall waiting for the musicians to begin, by the time I walked slowly up the winding stairs. My shoes, newly mended again, suddenly sounded very loud on the stone steps, and my robes were scratchy against my skin in a way they had never been before.

So there I was, waiting in the entrance hall. It was about four minutes past eight by then. I wanted to bite my nails, perhaps shuffle my feet a little in their magically-mended shoes. I didn't, though. I didn't want anyone to see that I was nervous, and particularly because none of that nervousness was because of the over-made up older girl that was even now walking towards me.

"You're late, Riddle." Lucy Rosier whined.

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**To be continued...very very soon : )**


	20. Part Nineteen: Last Dance

**Disclaimer: JK owns all...**

**Thank you, beloved reviewers! I want to dedicate this penultimate chapter to Indiscreet Midnight, who always reviews...cause I like that! **

**Also to Woodcrazy who hates Lucy, and might hate her even more in a spangled yellow dress...and to Valinor's Twilight, who likes Stalker!Tom...thank you all for the encouragement over these last few weeks. It is much appreciated!**

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**Part Nineteen**

**Last Dance**

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Why did Lucy Louisa Rosier always wear yellow? I marvelled at the girl's seeming ability to select the one colour of them all that did not suit her, and wear it to almost any occasion. I knew , of course, that it was her House colour, but that was surely no excuse for social occasions? This time, the robes were fashioned from a kind of floaty tulle, such as Muggle dancers wore in the ballet posters I had seen outside the London theatres. It reached her mid-ankle-she must have been only a few inches shorter than myself, for a girl, she was tall. The bodice and straps were festooned with canary-coloured sequins, with the familiar indiscreet plunging neckline. She wore no wrap, which would have made the too-revealing outfit a little more bearable, and her hair was pinned up with an enormous roll on the top like some kind of affected screen starlet. It would have been impolite to openly curl my lip in distaste, but I was forced to summon up supreme self-control as she chose that moment to simper at me and ask "How do I look?"

I smiled at her. "You look lovely, Lucy." I lied smoothly, as I offered her my arm and we walked through the double doors into the Hall.

The ceiling was bewitched to look like a clear, starry, summer night, and the hall itself decorated in the four house banners, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, the walls ablaze with green, yellow, blue and red. There was a long table with drinks in the far corner, and small chairs and tables had been set in circles around the edges of the dance floor.

The other prefects and their partners were standing ready to begin the first dance. Hastily, I swept Lucy toward the others.

**O O O O O**

Like everything else, I could dance well, something that had come naturally to me as of course, I had never been taught. Lucy was also a good dancer, fortunately, and it went a small way to make up for her lack of taste in clothing. She smiled happily and laughed as she twirled and I caught her as the song ended. She leant against me, for a second, but I quickly stepped away, looking around the room for the face I really wanted to see.

"Are you looking for Abraxas?" asked Lucy, suddenly.

"Pardon?" I asked her, polite, but still distracted. I couldn't see Laura. Probably, she wasn't coming, or she'd be here by now. Likely she had gone to bed.

"Who is he going with, anyway?" Lucy was speaking to me again.

"I don't know," I told her truthfully.

She took my arm again and we walked around the edge of the dance floor. I had just offered her a goblet of what looked like juice when I saw Abraxas Malfoy slip into the Hall, but he wasn't with a girlfriend, he was with Apollonia, his sister. I would tease him about that later.

I caught Lucy's attention, seeing as it was obvious Abraxas didn't want to be seen, and pointed him out to her, with a perfectly straight face.

"There's Abraxas, Lucy." I told her. "He's just arrived with the love of his life."

"Who?" Lucy asked, at once, jealousy evident in her high whining voice.

"His sister." I answered. "You should go and talk to him, you know."

"You…you don't mind?" she asked, tentatively, after a moment's thought.

"Not at all." I told her, absolutely honestly. I was desperate for a cigarette, desperate to get away from her, and desperate to see Laura.

Catching sight of my reflection in one of the mirrored pillars around the room, I smoothed my hair and adjusted my collar. When I looked back, Lucy had occupied the seat next to Abraxas, and the two were talking in low voices, heads together, as Apollonia looked furious, until a boy from Ravenclaw approached and asked her to dance with him.

She hesitated, and then stood up, looking shyer than I'd seen her, and a little flushed high on her pale cheeks.

I watched the two of them approach the dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Professor Dumbledore tapping his foot and nodding along to the song, which sounded suspiciously Muggle-like. Then, quite suddenly, I saw the door opening again, slowly, and framed in it... was Laura.

**O O O O O**

I wasn't even sure it was her, at first sight….she looked so much older, and beautiful, too.

Her dress was simple, sheer, white and artfully cut under the bust, with long fronds of fabric at the back, reminiscent of some Seventeenth Century French gown.. She'd pinned up her hair,only a few strands hanging down loose around her pretty, pale face, the glint of silver visible at the back. For a moment, I was struck by the overwhelming desire to kiss her neck again, like I used to. I stayed where I was, though, as her eyes moved slowly across the room, I knew she'd get to me eventually. Though in a manner of speaking, she already had.

I was ready, though, When finally she looked in my direction. Her eyes locked with mine across the crowded hall. For a second, it was just us, no-one else, nothing at all, apart from me and her and our shared secret. And I almost began to walk over to her, cross the distance between us, and hope for the best.

Until William Tisker ruined it.

He must have seen her come in too, and seen where she was looking, because he gave me a scornful glance and took her arm, pulling her away.

I had been glaring at the back of Tisker's expensive royal blue dress robes for almost a full minute by the time I realised what I was doing. Lucy Louisa was still with Abraxas, but I didn't care about that. I left them to it, and turned away, with the intention of finding a dark corner in which to lurk and watch, but it was not to be.

A seventh year Hufflepuff with violent red hair and almost as tall as I was, had approached, and duty bound as I was to be the honourable prefect, I obliged her with the next dance, and the next. A part of me hoped that Laura was watching me. I gave the red-haired girl a charming smile, and learned that her name was Minette. Minette had come without a partner, and was clearly trying to rectify the situation by the way she was flirting with me, but at the end of the next dance, I made my excuses.

I gave a quick glance around the edges of the dance floor, amongst the gaggle of students looking awkwardly around at each other on the sidelines, expecting to see Laura some way off, likely still sitting with Tisker, but I couldn't see where she'd gone.

I gave another cursory glance. I couldn't see Tisker, either.

The band switched over to a slow, romantic ballad, and a few couples drifted nervously away from the floor.

And then I saw her. And she was dancing. Dancing with Tisker. I felt the anger rise….I felt certain she must be doing it on purpose, to make me jealous. She was succeeding, then, because I was furious, my left hand twitching towards my wand, and only controlling myself by contemplating reprisals upon Tisker. Even as I watched, Tisker leaned over, whispering something into her ear. She laughed, and he pulled her a little closer to him.

Hating her, I slipped behind one of the huge pillars in the corner of the Hall and watched them, feeling pathetic and livid at the same time. Lucy Louisa was now dancing very close to Abraxas Malfoy, who was trying to get his hands anywhere he could, so I was guessing they had settled their differences. Minette the Hufflepuff was now bravely attempting to dance with Dolohov, who seemed to be continually stamping on her feet.

I watched as the song came to an end. Laura pulled away quite quickly from Tisker, who tried to pull her back. She looked like she was muttering an explanation, looking awkward and making a vague gesture. Tisker appeared to nod, and walked off into the corner, presumably to get drinks. Laura didn't follow. She watched him go, and then turned and walked away…..straight past the pillar I where I was--no, not hiding, that would be ridiculous.

I waited until she was an arms reach away, then put my hand out quickly, seizing hold of her wrist.

"What the…?" she exclaimed, as I yanked her behing the pillar with me.

"Hi." I smirked. "Sorry to spoil your fun."

Her lips thinned and she looked both frightened and furious.

"I knew it would be you." she said angrily.

"So, you were doing that on purpose, then, were you?" I questioned, with equal fury. "Knowing I would be _watching_ you, was that it?"

"No, that was not _it_." she hissed, looking behind her to make sure no-one was around to overhear. "He's quite pushy, in _case_ you hadn't realised."

"I thought you liked it. You certainly _looked_ like you did."

"Oh, _really_." She went to pull her wrist out of my hand, but I held on. "Get off, Tom."

"Do you want me to deal with him for you, then? Get him to leave you alone?" I asked nastily , twirling my wand in one hand.

"No. It has nothing to do with you."

"On the contrary," I said "It has _everything_ to do with me." I looked down at her hands, that she had folded over her stomach, and she didn't miss the meaning.

"Just……don't, all right. Don't. Stop talking about it."

" _It_ won't go away not talking about it, pretending you and I are over, Laura."

"We are." she said, shortly, looking away. "The fact you won't help me doesn't mean I've changed my mind. I haven't. I'll find another way."

Her words made me feel slightly sick, and there was silence for a long moment as I looked at her and she just returned my stare, not wavering, not flinching, no malice. Just telling me, and that was all. I couldn't bear this, this…..indifference.

"Dance with me." I said suddenly.

She looked at me as if I had said the most peculiar thing, a little incredulous, like she might laugh, but thought better of it.

"I'm not dancing with you." she said, finally..

"I want you to." I leaned closer to her, almost desperate. I still hadn't let go of her wrist.

"Well, I _don't_." She clenched her teeth, and tried to pull her arm away again, but I held on.

"Dance with me, Laura. You never know, I might leave you alone then."

She shook her head. "You're a liar, but then I knew that already," she muttered. "In any case, I feel too sick."

It was my turn to disbelieve her now."_I'm _the liar?" I questioned sarcastically."I don't get things wrong, Laura. I made that potion perfectly. I'm right about you, too."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know you want to be with me." I said, watching her eyes carefully. "And I want to be with you. So why fight it? We were meant to be. You said so yourself."

"You're scaring me."

"I haven't even begun."

"I know what you're really like, though, don't I?" she said, slowly. "I know. And if you think I'm stupid enough to trust you again after what you've done….._all_ the things you've done………she smoothed her dress over her abdomen where the small swelling was not quite visible, yet. then you're quite mad."

I saw her eyes shift from me to the door, and back again. I knew she was trying to judge how quickly she could get away from me without making a scene, but I wasn't going to let her. Not yet. Taking advantage of her moment of consideration, I took the opportunity to gain possession of the other hand.

"One dance, then….and it's over?" I asked her, quietly, looking deep into her eyes and lying to her ………again.

She looked back at me, slowly shook her head, and suddenly, I saw tears in her eyes.

" One dance, then." she whispered, very low, and let me lead her to the dance floor, her small hand feeling hot in mine.

The band was playing a slow, romantic number, and by now, no doubt with the assistance of Butterbeer, many couples were entwined on the dance floor. Professor Slughorn was even dancing with Madam Finnelly (though it did not appear to be to the tune the band were playing at that moment) and strangest of all, Dolohov was busy kissing the Hufflepuff, Minette, who seemed to be suspended in a state of shock.

I ignored them all, turning Laura to face me, and from the moment I took her waist, and she put her arms over my shoulders, there could have been only the two of us in the room.

**O O O O O**

She was tense, under my arms. I put my hand out to touch her hair. I would have liked it to have been more intimate, this dance, but instead it just felt cold, like a joke, gone badly wrong. I stroked the sheer fabric of her dress at the small of her back, run my fingers down. I knew she felt it, but she didn't look at me.

And it didn't last. The slow beat of the music came to an end, and before I could stop her, she had slipped from my grasp and was walking quickly towards the doors.

Pushing through the crowds, not caring anymore, I followed, only to feel a hand on my own shoulder just as I reached the exit. I swung round angrily, and found myself face to face with Abraxas Malfoy.

"What, Malfoy?" I snapped irritably.

"Have you seen Lucy?"

"Of course I haven't seen her. Not since earlier, at least. I thought she was with you?"

"Well, you're meant to be her partner tonight. So I thought….."

"Obviously then, you were wrong." I cut in.

Malfoy paused, obviously framing a question. It came.

"Why did you ask her to go with you, anyway? You don't even like her."

I gave him a nasty smile. "Why? Well…let's see…..because I can? Because I knew she'd say yes? Or maybe I did it just to infuriate you? Why, Abraxas? Do you want to perhaps duel me again? For the fair lady's hand? For her honour? If there's any left of it, that is, which I doubt."

Abraxas shifted uncomfortably in his expensive, highly polished shoes.

" I know what you're after." he said, after a pause, and he looked like he was going to smile, maybe an attempt at macho camaraderie. Gods. I looked away from him in disgust.

"You have no idea what I'm after, Malfoy." I told him, coldly.

I pushed past him, leaving him there with his mouth slightly open like a fish out of water, and crossed the entrance hall, looking to see where Laura had gone. There was nobody there, the foyer quite deserted, but as I approached the staircases leading to the upper floors, I heard voices coming from behind one of the tall stone columns...

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**To be continued in the final chapter...very soon...**


	21. Part Twenty: If I Should Fall From Grace

**Disclaimer: Fanfiction...I don't own Tom Riddle, though I wish it were different...; )**

**To everyone who has taken the time to write me a review and say they liked it, much love and thanks to you, and those who have read and not reviewed, thank you all the same for giving me a chance!**

**This is not really the last part, although it is the last part of the story told through Tom's eyes. You might recall that the prologue was written differently, and so, too, are the two epilogues I have which make up the real end.**

**I'll stop waffling now. Without further ado...Part Twenty...enjoy, and mind that M-rating on your way...**

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**Part Twenty**

**'If I Should Fall From Grace'**

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Quietly, I moved around the column so that I could see without being seen. Only, I didn't like what I saw at all.

William Tisker had Laura pinned up against the column, clearly in the process of what he imagined to be a seduction. He was trying to kiss her, one blond, hairy arm pushing around her waist as he tried to grope with the other. Anger rose, bitter inside my throat. I leant over, trying to see her face. She wore a pained expression halfway between a wince and a cringe, and she appeared to be trying to actually fight him off.

"Come on…"I heard Tisker saying. "Don't be coy. If you didn't like me, then why would you dance with me, why would you spend so much time with me?"

"I….like…..Quidditch, Will." Laura said, in a strangled voice. " And you're the Captain, so of course I would spend time with…." Her words were abruptly cut off as he descended upon her, trying again to capture her in an embrace. I drew my wand, silently aiming a curse at Tisker, and vowing he would be sorry for ever having touched her, her, and my child inside her. But before I'd had time to decide which curse to use on him, Laura had brought up her leg and pushed Tisker away.

I heard him yell, and hoped that she had hit him where it hurt. He staggered for a moment, and then made off up the stairs, swearing and cursing loudly.

Laura didn't turn around. She ran towards the front steps and disappeared out of the heavy oak doors as I watched. Burning with rage at what I had seen, I waited a few seconds to give Tisker a start, and followed him silently up the stairs.

I caught up with him as he thudded up the steps to the seventh floor corridor. I waited quietly, for him to pass by the portrait that I knew lay opposite the secret room.

I drew my wand and took aim.

-

"_Immobilus!" _

My voice resonated around the walls of the corridor. I was not worried about being heard. I could still hear the band playing faintly in the distance, and knew that everyone else, even the teachers, would still be at the ball some six floors below us.

Tisker fell, crashing to the floor, his wrist at a strange angle where he'd tried to withdraw his own wand, and been too slow.

He lay on the cold stone, not moving, with only the shallow rise and fall of his chest to suggest that I had not killed him.

Slowly, I approached his prone form. I walked around, into his line of vision, my boots echoing in the terrible quiet of the corridor. The faint music played on.

"Riddle," croaked Tisker, in a surprised and strangled voice.

I looked at his broad, thuggish face. There was a smear of blood across his temple.

"Riddle," he rasped again," What the hell are you doing, following me around….?"

He was cut off rapidly, crying out in pain as I drove my boot, hard, into his stomach, with hard- learned Muggle brutality.

"Tisker," I said, pleasantly. " If it's all the same, and I think it will be, I'd rather not hear you speak."

I performed the usual ritual in front of the space on the wall, walk three times in front and concentrate………

The door appeared as I knew it would. I used my wand to get Tisker inside, followed him into the place we had come to know as the Room Of Requirement.

Only it was different, this time. There were no iron chairs, no bookcases, just a huge open space, and around that space, piled high, were mountains and mountains of…junk. Books to birdcages, old bones, broken wands and feathered hats, boxes overflowing with God knows what. To my left, there was a tall, walnut cupboard with no key in the rusty lock, and to my right, a rough path had been made in the piles of rubbish and forgotten artefacts, winding all the way back as far as the eye could see. Tall windows stretched the length of the room at the back, and behind them, the sky was black, the glass spattered with spots of rain, although I knew that, in reality, the May sunshine would soon be setting, across the grounds of the school.

"What is this place?" croaked Tisker, suddenly, reminding me that he was there.

"That's not your concern, Tisker, now, is it?" I asked him, not really caring whether or not he answered me.

"Why are you doing this?" he rasped, a tiny trickle of blood visible at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, that's an interesting question, _William_." I said, pleasantly. "And certainly an interesting tale, not that I will be telling it to you, of course. Suffice to say, it wasn't very sensible of you to put your hands on what is _mine_."

Tisker tried to move again, and failed, I still held my wand on him, my grip steady, I was calm. So calm, despite the fury bubbling in my veins that he dared to touch her.

"What are you talking about, Riddle?" he said at last.

I walked around his collapsed body and came to a halt right in front of his face. His hands had flopped uselessly onto the stone floor. Slowly, purposefully, I raised my boot and crushed his fingers underneath my foot. I had always wanted to laugh in Tisker's face. I did so now as I felt his bones snap one by one. To some, it would be a dreadful sound, but to me, it was like music from the heavens. So was Tisker's shriek of pain, a primeval howl that echoed and reverberated around the stone walls of the Room.

"There, now," I smiled at him. "You'll not be doing that again, will you?"

The Quidditch Captain wheezed, a slow, rattling breath.

"Laura." he said. " Her. It's because of her, all this?"

"And what would make you think that, Tisker?" I asked him, hearing my voice as if it was disembodied from myself, low, dangerous. I didn't know what I might be capable of , here and now. Tisker, for his part, didn't manage an answer straight away.He just groaned, tried to roll over and found he could not.

Tisker turned wild eyes to meet mine, as if he'd suddenly realised something.

"It was you……..wasn't it? It's you…..why she's always ill now, missing Quidditch…running to the bathroom after meals.You….you got her in trouble. You, of all people! I always thought you were poor scum, no matter how much the Professors thought of you, but I never thought even your sort would stoop so low as to………wait until I tell Professor Dippet what you've….ahhhhhh!"

Tisker gasped and choked as I drove my boot into his stomach again.

"You won't be telling anyone, Tisker." I informed him, withdrawing my wand and pointing it directly towards his heart. I braced myself to cast the curse, knowing the effect it would have and feeing the vague thrill of excitement and lust.

"Going to kill me, now, Riddle?" Tisker wheezed, blood soaking through his white shirt where my kick had broken the skin.

I regarded him coldly. I had absolutely no feelings apart from anger and hate for the boy before me. I couldn't let him leave, that would be the end of everything. And so I made my choice.

"The idea has more merit than I gave you credit for, Tisker," I said, quietly. " Thank you for suggesting it."

"You're mad." Tisker said, then shook his head. " No….you're not mad…you're a psychopath. You belong in the asylum. You're criminally insane…..you don't deserve ever to have come here………"

I didn't want to expend the energy to kick him again. Instead I raised my wand high, saying the incantation over and over in my head, a malevolent rehearsal of death.

And then, I heard the footfalls, running feet, thudding hard up the corridor…coming closer and closer.

I whirled around as the door to the room crashed open. There, framed in the doorway, pale as ever, white blond hair dishevelled with the run, silver eyes wide, stood Abraxas Malfoy.

-

His eyes swept the room taking in the scene. Tisker, on the floor, blood seeping slowly from his mouth and head, and me. Me, standing with my wand out pointing straight at my victim, the killing curse ready on my lips…… my eyes surely as alive as they had ever been…. with revenge and great gulps of the drug brutality.

"Riddle," said Abraxas, quietly. "Riddle, what in hell are you doing?"

-

"I saw." Abraxas was saying, still panting from the exertion. "I saw, Riddle. _She's_ your girlfriend, isn't she? It was her….her, all the time."

So Malfoy knew. I was shocked, but I rallied quickly. I had to. I thought fast and as a flash of pure inspiration, it came to me. Abraxas and I had studied the Dark Arts together, at his suggestion. Now was the time to find out just how corrupt he could be. Besides, Abraxas was a fool... and fools were easily manipulated.

"Why, Abraxas…" I said softly, breaking my silence and moving close to him. "I hoped that you would follow me here."

"What?" Abraxas said surprised. He clearly had not been expecting welcome.

"We have been waiting, have we not, for a chance for _proper_ practice of our craft." I said, in an urgent, insinuating whisper. "Here it is. Our chance, Abraxas. Our _opportunity. _Just you and me. Nobody to tell."

Abraxas flinched, looking over at Tisker who was clinging to consciousness, but only barely. Malfoy looked doubtful.

"He'll tell, Riddle. Of course he'll tell. You must be mad to think other-"

I moved quickly, interrupting his flow, to stand before him. Slowly, I ran a cold hand down the side of his white cheek, slow…… almost seductive. He shivered involuntarily and drew in breath, closing his eyes for second and moving into my touch. I could read Abraxas so well.

"Then we shall make sure he will never be able to …..tell.." I whispered. "Take out your wand, Abraxas."

Malfoy hesitated, looking up at me as if to gauge whether or not I was serious. Tisker groaned faintly. I imagined that by now he was beginning to bleed to death internally, but there was still time for sport, if we made haste.

"It's easy, Abraxas. Just _follow_……" I murmured, in his ear.

_A wave of a wand and it's all over…..fall into nothing and float away. Terrifyingly, wonderfully easy_.

I spoke the words of the Cruciatus curse, and Tisker screamed writhing and thrashed with energy I would never understand, given the state he was in already. It was fascinating…to observe the human body's reaction to such intense pain and suffering, the reserves we had, if only we knew it, under pressure.

Tisker screamed again, louder, he evidently entertained hopes of being heard and perhaps, rescued. I drew back my wand to cast the silencing spell upon him, but before I could, someone else spoke the incantation.

-

Abraxas stood, with his wand raised, and a strange glint in his pale eyes that I had never seen before. A twisted smirk was etched onto his face.

"My turn." he said. "First, though, Riddle, heal him."

"What do you mean?" I snapped.

Abraxas smiled the same twisted smile. "Heal his wounds,"

"Why?"

"He'll last longer."

We both laughed then, and the noise echoed around the huge cathedral-like place we were standing in, maniacal and obscene over Tisker's pain.

I had never really laughed with Abraxas, not really, but at that moment, we truly bonded. Master and Apprentice. Brothers…..though not equals, despite what he may have imagined. Brothers, but in murder. So steeped in blood now, there was no return.

We took turns as we tortured the broken Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain until he was nothing but a shell, half crazed with agony and blood loss. A true bonding session.

Poor Tisker. He was once so good looking, so handsome, so talented. When Abraxas and I had finished with him, he really wasn't much to look at. All he could do was croak:

"Stop it...please……please…..stop…."

And then at last, I did stop, looking again into Abraxas' eyes. He met my gaze with a look of feral triumph, a twisted sneer of hate. But I knew that he had one more task to perform, one more purpose to serve.

"Kill him," I whispered.

"Kill him?" Abraxas breathed, eyes saucer like, and mouth open in shock.

"You do it," he said.

"No, Abraxas, you _must _do it," I said, urgently. " Until tonight, I thought you were merely a weakling, hiding behind me solely for protection, that you knew I was more powerful than you could ever be But tonight, I see now, that I have misjudged you. We are a team. We can do this….together. _We_ are powerful, Abraxas." I lied smoothly.

"I can't," Abraxas whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse, surreal in this cathedral of echoes.

"Yes, Abraxas. Yes. You _can_ do it." I urged.

"I can't……I can't" He rubbed a pale hand across his robe, dispersed the sweat from his palms whereas mine were cool and dry.

"Do you want to be weak, all of your life, Abraxas?" I demanded.

"Of course not……no…..I…I'm not weak."

"Do it, then! Now!" I commanded.

"I……."

Slowly, hesitantly, Abraxas raised his wand high over his head, resolute at last.

"Yes!" I hissed, pushing him, urging him on, so close to tasting triumph. "Avada Kedavra…..Abraxas……..you know the words…just say them…….mean them…..say those two little words…….."

I looked into Abraxas' face and saw all his muscles were tense, his back taut and his wand raised up, ready to strike. And as I looked closely, then I saw it, a single tear, trickling down his cheek.

Tisker had finally fallen silent, and I when turned my attention on to him, as he lay on the cold concrete floor, crimson fluid pooling by his head, I saw that his face too, was stained with tears.

Malfoy's incantation was a rasping whisper that hung obscenely in the stale air, the green light glancing across the windows and for a moment, I was blind.

William Tisker flailed once, then lay still. His death was not instantaneous as I had thought. Perhaps it was a matter of experience, but in the split second after I regained my sight, I found his eyes looking straight into mine, seconds before their flat, blue light gave out.

"Do right by her, Riddle," he said, faintly, but horribly audible. " I know what you've done."

-

Abraxas stared.

"What did he mean by that?" he whispered, after a long silence.

"How should I know?" I snapped, swinging my cloak. I pulled the dark swathes of fabric around me like a costume, a protection. "He was barking by the time we'd finished."

Abraxas blanched, as if the gravity of the situation had only just dawned upon him.

"He's really dead, isn't he. I killed him. I killed him,"

He began to shake hysterically, repeating his sentence over and over. I drew my hand back and slapped him, hard, across the face.

"Shut up. We have to get rid of _it_." I gestured to the lifeless body of Tisker lying a few feet away. Abraxas made another strange, strangled noise, long red finger marks beginning to blossom across his pale cheek.

"How the hell are we going to do that? Gods, we'll be caught. We'll die in Azkaban. We'll be…"

"Nothing is going to happen to us, Abraxas, as long as you do exactly as I say." I told him. "Now, keep quiet. _Mobilicorpus_!"

We levitated Tisker's prone body in front of us as we negotiated the stacks of rubbish and forbidden items.

Eventually we found what appeared to be a deep pit covered over with a rusty grate. I blasted the grate off with my wand, and Tisker's body fell down it with a dull, hollow thud.With another incantation, I sealed the dilapidated cover back on.

I could taste the blood on my own lips, bitten through with nerves. We stepped back out together, into the seventh floor corridor. Downstairs, floors below….. the faint music could still be heard.

And I couldn't help smiling.

-

Abraxas lay on his bed shaking, drawing the covers over himself. When I looked down, I noticed that there was a smear of blood on the back of my right hand.

I went into the bathroom and wiped it off, changed my robes and combed back my hair. Abraxas whimpered, and pulled the coverlet over his blond head. I paid him no attention. He could stay here and make his own excuses.

I had someone I wanted to see. Needed.

-

I found her looking out towards the lake.

She still had the white dress on , but I noticed there was now a tear in it, and the hem was stained and spattered with mud. She'd been running.

She stood, staring out over the water as the sun set. I watched her for a while, then made my way across the grass towards her.

I saw her touch her hair, where I knew she had the Ravenclaw comb, and she turned around in time to see me approach.

Her expression turned into one of angry confusion and she whipped out her wand.

"I'll hex you if you come any closer." she spat.

"Laura…please…" I said, softly.

"Go away." she said, shrilly. "You've ruined everything for me as it is. There's nothing left for you to destroy, Riddle. So just go away."

"It doesn't have to be-" I began, but she cut me off.

"Yes, _Tom_, it does." Suddenly, and without warning, she began to cry. I walked quickly towards her, and she lowered her wand, letting me put my arms around her and sobbing into the sleeve of my robes.

"You do look beautiful," I told her, quietly," Ever since…ever since you came here, you were always beautiful."

"I'm not beautiful, Tom. Strictly average, remember…." She turned and looked sadly into my eyes.

"And I wasn't worth that much to you in the end, was I? I can't trust you. And you lied to me. You're a thief and a liar. And," she laughed briefly, sardonically.

"You ruined me too, didn't you? I was stupid enough to think you cared about me, even though I wasn't brilliant or beautiful. I thought you knew what it was like to be ignored. To be forgotten about. To not matter. I thought you gave a damn. Even knew how it felt to be alone. But the only person you care about is yourself."

"That's not true," I hissed, grasping her tighter, but she pulled away from me, and walked off, ahead of me. I caught her up, grabbing at her arm and pulling her round to face me.

"Stop it!" she said furiously, pulling her arm away, but I held on until we were almost scuffling like we had that night in the bathroom. I let go.

"I do care, I promise. Think of the future, think of our child, Slytherin and Ravenclaw. It's destiny, Laura. Like I told you before, that day….." I stopped, remembering suddenly what day it had been.

She looked at me as if I was mad, saying something so insanely impossible.

By that time, perhaps, I was.

"This is my _life_, Tom," she whispered "and I 'm not giving it up for your sick ideas of greatness, putting such a burden on another human being just for the sake of your ideas on bloody power and who can be the best,"

"But I love you."

"Love? Me? Don't lie, Tom. I admit it, you are probably the most talented wizard this school has ever seen. You are clever, handsome…and powerful…oh yes, but you have absolutely no feelings. And a child needs love, Tom. Love more than power, and expectations of a father bent on gratifying only himself. Love, rather than you and your damned agenda, whatever it is. I don't want to know."

"Did you love _me_? " I demanded suddenly, seized with the idea that maybe, just maybe , I could convince her to convince herself.

She looked at me narrowly, sizing up what I wanted from her, and she paused, just a second too long. Long enough, at least, for me to move that one step closer and hold her again. To my surprise, though, she yielded easily to this, and she didn't pull away when I bent and kissed her mouth for the first time in what seemed like forever. I didn't know quite how it happened myself, but before I could think, we were both locked together, kissing feverishly, the way you might if you knew it would be the last time you ever would. I could taste the tears on her face, but I didn't stop. I didn't care. Not by then.

"Tell me you love me," I demanded, breathlessly, in between kisses.

"I can't" she whispered.

"Lie to me then. You never said it, Laura,. _Nobody_ ever said that to me. I want to hear you say it."

"You give so much away sometimes, Tom-"

"Say it!"

"I'll only say it because I want to. Not because you tell me to...I won't do it just because you say-"

She leant over and began to kiss me again, only softer and more deliberate this time. At first I stood still, wanting her to acquiesce to my command, and I didn't respond, but I found I wasn't able to do this for long. I pushed her gently against the trunk of the tree we were standing under as she kissed first my cheeks, then my mouth.

" I love you." she whispered into my ear.

"Say it again."

"I love you...I love you, Tom Riddle. I love you... and I hate you. I hate you for making me love you and I hate you for what you did. Are you happy now?"

" I might never be happy again." I said, darkly. "If you do what you said you were going to. If you ever leave me.You never know what I might do, if you did that..."

"Tom...I can't...how can you want this?" she said, despairingly.

"Isn't a child just one more way to make yourself immortal for anyone?" I asked her, softly.

She looked at me and just shook her head in disbelief.

"No, Tom. It isn't. Or if that's a reason, then it's the wrong one."

"Look," she said eventually, taking both my hands in hers.

"I loved you like nothing in this world, Tom. And then you did...what you did. And I can't be with you. And I can't have a baby. I can't even look after myself….look at me." She gestured miserably at the torn dress.

" You can, " I argued, " We could be together, I could find a job easily..."

"You aren't even legally of age."

"That has ever mattered to me?"

No, but it would matter to the Ministry. What are you going to do, sign up for the Muggle's army?" She gave a snort of derision.

She might as well have slapped my face with those words.

"If you do not want us to be together…' I said angrily '..would you rather your _easy_ little way out, Laura?"

"Easy?" she shrieked, rounding on me. "You think this has been easy, Tom? Damn you to hell if you think any of this has been easy!"

Slipping out of my grasp too fast for me to prevent it, she turned on her heel and began to run, across the grass and back up to the castle, and for once in my life I did nothing.

I just stood there and watched her go, watched her until she was a tiny speck in the distance, and then, she turned a corner and disappeared from view.

I sat down on the grass siding that ran around the edge of the water, and watched the ripples break along the muddy banks of the lake.

It was a long time before I dragged my heavy legs back up to the castle, my heart full of anger and the dread of something I couldn't control, the unfamiliar suffocation of defeat. The early summer sun had long since faded and the long grey fingers of eventide had infused the grounds with a flat, irrepressibly damp, empty cold. I never even thought about Tisker and Abraxas. Somehow, they had ceased to exist for me, and there was nothing but me and her...me and her.

The Ball was over.

-

In the morning, the whole school was alive and buzzing with the hum of gossip and scandal.

The Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain and the Beauxbatons girl had run away together, maybe she was having his baby? I sat down to breakfast but found that I could not eat a bite. Eventually, Professsor Dippet got up and addressed the room at large.

"We have two students missing," he said, gravely, as he twisted the ends of his long grey beard around his fingers.

"Both from Ravenclaw house. William Tisker, who you will know as Quidditch Captain for Ravenclaw, and Laura Ames, who joined us in November. It is believed that they left the Ball last night together, and as such, it is assumed they left the school together also.

There was a murmur around the room, and I felt sure Dumbledore was watching me,but when I looked up, he was watching Dippet, who was speaking again.

"If anyone has any information on their wherabouts," he intoned "or possible reasons for their disappearance, I expect you to report to your Heads of House _immediately _after breakfast."

Abraxas, who was staring fixedly at his green glass goblet, jumped as it smashed in front of him.

I shot him a warning look, and he mumbled 'sorry' before taking out his wand to mutter 'Reparo', but my mind was still turning over and over.

I knew, of course, that Tisker was definitely not with Laura, as even now, his body was probably beginning to decompose down at the bottom of the hole, wherever that led. But let him rot for all I cared. The school was better off without the Mudblood Wonder Boy.

As far as it concerned me, in any case he got what he deserved for daring to touch her. He was as good as dead the minute I saw him put his hands on her.

But where was she?

I knew she would never have gone home, not while she was carrying my child, as according to her father , the spawn of the Mudblood filth that had taken his daughter's perfect pureblood virginity. I was right, of course.

I was watching from the upstairs window when Aster Ames arrived in his carriage and was greeted soberly by Professor Dippet, who took him at once into his office, all apologies.

By nightfall, word had gone round that Laura Ames had not run away home, and, although the pair were presumed to be together, all Tiskers clothes and possessions were still in their places, untouched, in his sixth year dormitory, whereas all Laura's had been taken, from her clothes, book and potions kit, to her precious Nimbus 250.

It was a mystery, said Professor Dippet sadly, at supper. A mystery and a tragedy. He might have been right on one count, at least.

-

Professor Flitwick instructed all of Ravenclaw house to remain in the Great Hall for a meeting after the meal.

I watched as the Slytherins trooped back down to the dungeons, most fairly nonchalant; it did not affect them personally, and anyway, it would ensure success in the next Quidditch match, if two of the opposition's players had gone……

I did not follow them. I waited until they had moved out of sight, and then, silently, I sipped away, heading for Ravenclaw Tower.

-

The portrait guarding Ravenclaw was of a tall, dark haired woman, sitting side-saddle on the back of a handsome grey horse. Behind her, the sea lapped in a cloudy cove and somehow, I felt sure I had seen that cove before, when the sun was shining on it. Now, it just looked forbidding.

"No Slytherins," she said, imperiously, when she caught sight of me.

"Let me in," I said, through gritted teeth.

"No Slytherins allowed," The woman repeated, sharply.

I took out my wand.

" I have to get in there. Now, or I'll burn you off the wall!"

The tall woman merely laughed softly, and gave a faint smile.

" You're looking for Rebecca's girl. She's not here."

"Rebecca?"

"Rebecca ……yes……(she closed her eyes briefly)... I see it now."

" Let me in. I have to see if she left anything, a clue, anything." I demanded, horribly conscious of how precious my minutes were.

"And why would you need _that_, young Slytherin?" the woman asked with a knowing look in her clear grey eyes.

I hesitated. The woman continued her unblinking gaze, waiting for my answer.

" Because I.." I began, then stopped short, choking on the words I had been about to say.

I had suddenly caught sight of a flash of silver in the dark hair in the woman that was speaking to me from within that flat painted canvas, lifeless, yet living. A silver spark in the dark nighttime satin of her hair. Like Laura's. And the woman noticed and reached up and withdrew the comb from her shining tresses.

"You recognize this." She said. It was not a question.

"I _did_ love her. I did." I said, my whisper barely audible, even to myself.

The portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw merely smiled as it swung forwards to let me inside.

-

My first attempt to climb the stairs was blocked by an enchantment, presumably to prevent the Ravenclaw boys from gaining entry after hours. I bruised my leg painfully, but managed to successfully disable the spell on my second attempt.

I ran up the stairs two at a time until I saw a sign marked 'Fifth Years' I tried the door.

The room was empty and devoid of any signs of life, its occupants all no doubt still sitting in the Great Hall. Except one, of course.

The drapes had not been drawn across the long windows, and I could see out across the back of the castle, pale blue sky streaked with the brilliant red of rising dusk, and beyond it, only black.

I glanced around, reading the names on the end of the beds…Elodie Prince…Vera Danson……Joan Brown…..Gracie Riverdene…….and at the very end,scribbled on blue card in her own distinctive script, Laura Ames.

Everything had been taken. I pulled open drawers and cupboards, feeling around with my fingers desperately into every corner in the hope that there would be something..to tell me anything at all. I crawled under the bed and searched there, she had pulled out her trunk and taken that too-there were scratch marks on the linoleum. I dragged the blankets off her bed, tore the pillow from its case and found nothing at all. Nothing left.

I looked at the bed and all around the room just wondering what it would be like, what was it like to be her, to be in her skin? I put the pillow to my face, inhaled, and it was there still, the faint scent of Laura and her lilies of the valley.

But she'd gone.

-

Helplessness and hopelessness are more dangerous than fear or hate or anger.

They eat you up inside. They destroy you, from within, tear you apart with holes you cannot see, until it is too late. They make you weak. They leave you open.

Like love.

One word, so pathetic.

So important.

Night had fallen now, a rising curtain reaching out and covering the last shreds of the day. I had left her dormitory unseen, hid out in the grounds, by the old beech tree, where I'd held her that time, after the match…. all those months ago. Laid down and watched the sky turn black

I did not know that tears could sting, until tonight. But I will learn from it.

William Tisker died last night. So did Tom Riddle.

* * *

**Epilogues **


	22. Epilogue One: A Significant Death

**Disclaimer: As always, JK owns all...I merely speculate on the possibilties.**

**My thanks to everyone reading and most especially who have taken the time to leave a comment. I hope I manage to do the end justice. It has had about 183 different versions, though the events have always been the same. **

**Here is the first part of two.**

**-**

**Epilogue Part One**

**A Significant Death**

**-**

William Tisker's body was never found. His heartbroken mother was still searching for him when she died in 1968.

-

Lady Apollonia Malfoy died in suspicious circumstances after openly opposing her brother's involvement with the Death Eaters.

She was found dead in 1952, aged twenty five, in the grounds of the Malfoy family estate, which she had solely inherited after her widowed mother excluded Abraxas from her will, for his affiliation with the Dark Arts.

She was laid to rest in the grounds. Her ghost is said to wander the house at night, searching for her twin brother.

-

Lucy Louisa Rosier became Mrs Malfoy when she finally married Abraxas in 1953, a year after he took over the Malfoy estate. Their only child, a boy, Lucius, was born two years later.

-

Evan Rosier pledged his alliegance to the Dark Arts, and it is rumoured widely that he remained Tom Riddle's faithful acolyte until his death upon resisting arrest by Auror Alastor Moody, in 1982.

-

Elodie Prince was also killed in battle fighting for the resistance that wiped out the remainder of Grindelwald's mob. Grindelwald himself was defeated by none other than Albus Dumbledore, in 1945. Elodie was survived by her younger sister, Eileen, who campaigned vehemently as her sister did, for Muggle Protection.

-

Amy Benson's body was washed up on a beach in Devonshire in October,1949. She had been battered and raped. Nobody knew exactly what had caused her death and nobody was ever brought to trial. The case remains unsolved to this day.

-

Myrtle Miles survived just six weeks after our story ends, killed in a girls bathroom by a monster unleashed when a third year boy allegedly opened Salazar Slytherin's legendary Chamber Of Secrets. Rubeus Hagrid was named as the culprit, and expelled.

-

Tom Marvolo Riddle was made Head Boy of Hogwarts in 1944. He achieved the top grade in every examination he took, but did not go on to join the Ministry for Magic, as his Head Of House, Horace Slughorn, had predicted.

He went to work in Borgin and Burkes, a notorious Dark Artefact shop in Knockturn Alley. He spent three years at the shop, and then disappeared, in 1948, aged 21, after a call on an elderly client, who was later found dead.

-

Aster Ames died suddenly in December, 1943, three months after his missing daughter came of age. She inherited all the Ames property, including the farm.

Some days after Aster's death, a scruffy raven, bearing a scroll, flew across Muggle London, and began to tap at the attic window of the young maid's quarters at the East Vauxhall Road Bakery………………waking her with a start from a dream about a tall boy, and a black-haired child that kept running and running through a dark forest... and she couldn't catch up, no matter how fast she ran...

-

**Joliens, France**

**31st December, 1950.**

**-**

The late December night was lit by a clear moon, not quite full, but large enough to leave long shadows along the gravel paths and the dark trees surrounding the old Ames farm. The air was freezing, the temperature falling for the first time in a hundred years below minus five, though there seemed to be no scientific explanation for the sudden drop in temperature.

If there had been a casual, or even not so casual observer, they would have seen a speck of black, almost invisible to the eye against the dark sky, soar down further and further until it took on the distinct shape of a huge, black bird.

There was nothing at all to disturb this bird's graceful descent to the assortment of tumbledown buildings that stood some three hundred yards downhill from a large, mean looking house that stood above a cove, behind a copse of thick yew trees. Down in the cove ,the sea stood still almost as if it too, could have frozen, and even the haunting cries of the crowing sea birds were silenced, as the creatures fled from the cold.

The huge, black bird circled once, twice, over the largest of the outbuildings, before quite suddenly taking a sharp downward dive. It swooped through a rough hole in the roof of the largest outbuilding, and dropped the package it clutched in its long, black talons into the outstretched hand of a woman wearing a tattered and dirty blue velvet cloak. The owner of the farm, who lived there quite alone.

The good ladies in the village whispered about the odd young woman who had returned to the farm when the dark old man who had previously owned it had died in the middle of the Second World War, but none of them would ever venture up to the farm.There was something about it, they would say. Something about it that somehow, made you want to stay away.

In the barn, her breath coming out in white clouds in the icy air, the young woman petted the raven affectionately, yet briefly, on the side of it's enormous beak, before turning her attention back to the injured unicorn that lay on the clean straw, its head in the crook of her arm in utter trust of its quiet, dark-haired owner. She opened the package, it contents revealed to be a small, silver jar. Unscrewing the cap, she applied some to the leg wound of the creature, before rising to her feet.

The unicorn whinnied softly, and she patted its luminescent white muzzle with love.

"Goodnight,"she whispered. "I'll see you at sunrise."

Tweny-four year old Laura Ames drew the latch across the stable door and locked it, heading back up the hill to the house in the darkness of that cold night.

-

Seven years had passed since the raven had delivered the letter, seven years since Laura had packed up her scant personal belongings in the night, while the widowed owner of the Muggle bakery and her sons slept, and headed home at last.

Her hair was longer, wilder and even more unkempt, and her grey eyes larger and sadder than they used to be, though dry from tears for many years now : Laura lived alone, separate from the world, on her own side...the safe side, or so she thought.

She had left Hogwarts, and come of age whilst working at the only place she could think of that might let her have bed and board.

The woman at the East Vauxhall Road Bakery was grateful for Laura's help...the girl had, she used to say, an almost _magical_ knack of being able to quieten the boys while she minded the shop, and she could get the place clean quicker than anyone she knew. For Laura's part, the bakery owner had the quality of never questioning anything that anyone did, and Laura found this restful; her ever-looser clothing not being commented on as long as the boys were happy and the floor was spick and span. And it always was.

As Laura walked, she pulled her worn cloak tighter around narrow shoulders against the biting wind that tugged at the gorse on the edge of the cliff top and whipped at the loose strands of her hair. In her pocket bristled another piece of post, a letter yet to be replied to, brought some days ago, by a bird she recognized as one of the owls from her old school, Hogwarts. The letter was from the new Headmaster, one Albus Dumbledore, who Laura recalled as the Transfiguration master and Head of Gryffindor House. The letter enquired if she would mind if he called at Ames Farm for an informal chat at her convenience. Laura did not know what Professor Dumbledore might want with an old student.Perhaps it was to reprimand her about her abrupt departure from his school, but she found it odd that he would wait so many years, and in any case, Dumbledore had always seemed so nice...despite all the nasty things that Tom used to say...

Tom.

Laura's memory swam back in time as she trudged up the muddy path to the house, her boots making a dull thud on the freezing ground.

She remembered another New Year's Eve,a New Years Eve so many years ago, when there had been kisses and forbidden embraces in the darkness of deserted school halls, and more..in the quiet of a dormitory where she should never have been, and of the boy with the black hair and the fathomless eyes who was born on the darkest day of the year. The boy who had held her, and told her she'd always be his, at any price. Tom Riddle.

Laura wondered what had become of the tall, beautiful boy she once loved, once kissed and laughed with in summer along this very path, down in the cove.

For a moment, she paused, and looked out to sea like they once had done together, one enchanted evening, and she imagined what it might have been like if she had accepted his offer. They might have been together, he would have been waiting for her in the warm living room, when she returned, she would kiss him and tell him she loved him and he would tell her back. She would be holding a child, maybe expecting another. They would be married...

Laura Ames had never married. She was alone in the world. So alone, she believed, that she did not even look up, as she approached the house and drew her wand to unlock the back door, crossed the threshold, and entered the high ceilinged kitchen.

-

If Laura had looked, on that dark night, she might have noticed the flickering glow of a fire that she had not lit, glowing around the sides of the thick, velvet drapes not drawn by her.

As it was, she did not, and Laura had shut and locked the kitchen door behind her long before she realised that she was not alone.

-

In the once dusty, dilapidated kitchen, the mantel had been cleaned, and the tarnished photograph frames that once faced the wall had been replaced and now looked out into the room, three brave brothers, a young woman in a wedding dress on the arm of a much younger Aster Ames, a baby girl standing shakily alongside a golden baby unicorn. Laura stepped past them, her long, shabby blue cloak making a small noise as it trailed damp on the mended quarry tiles.

The lounge door was ajar. She could just make out faint static from a radio, but it was not tuned to any station she had ever heard of.

The fire in the room had indeed been lit, and burned low, suggesting that whoever had lit it... had been waiting for some time.

Waiting for her.

It was all Laura could do to summon up Gryffindor courage as she raised her voice at last.

-

"Who's there? What do you want?" she called out sharply, drawing an old light wood wand from inside her sleeve.

And suddenly, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows and turned to face her.

A sharp-taloned hand closed around Laura's heart, and her blood turned as cold as the air across the black sea outside.

-

The man that stood before her was taller than the boy she remembered. He wore all-black; robes and a long cloak over his slim shoulders. His skin was paler too, the colour, almost the texture, of marble.

His hair was a stark contrast to his pallor. Once wavy and short, it was now long and tied in a single glossy black ponytail that hung over one shoulder.

He smiled, the movement of flesh only, a strained and unreal thing; it did not reach his empty eyes. And when he spoke, his voice was cold. He stepped forward, and Laura recoiled instinctively as he reached out a freezing, long-fingered hand.

"Hello, Laura." he said. " Can it really have been seven years?"

Her wand clattered to the floor.

-

Down in the village, the church clock began to strike twelve.

And despite the flash of green light that filled the windows up at the farm, the faint sound of the Muggle radio station continued, playing Auld Lang Syne, because it was a New Year.

-

Laura Ames body was found by the French Auror squad. It was, they said, a terrible tragedy. A sign of the times.

All the villagers gossiped with a macabre relish about the suicide of the odd, lonely young woman who lived on the old farm on the cliff top.

No relatives came forward. Indeed, appeared that Miss Ames had been entirely alone in the world. No note nor will was found, strange for a suicide, they said, but thought no more of it, with the lack of other evidence, and the fact that the killing curse was cast by her own wand.

Her personal possessions and estate were sold at auction to a wealthy, unnamed buyer in Wiltshire, England.

Rather curiously, the Ravenclaw comb had disappeared.

-

**Epilogue Two **


	23. Epilogue Two: Birth Days

**Disclaimer: Humble fanfic...not mine...**

**Well...the end has arrived...many, many thanks to all those who have taken time to write a review...I appreciate each and every one! This is the second half of the epilogue. I would _love_ to know any thoughts on this as a whole, so any final comments would be most welcome, if I may be so bold! Without further ado, then...**

-

**Epilogue Part Two**

**Birth Days**

-

_**"I know where they buried her, after I did what must be done, though I have never been there.**_

_**Secrets die with people, and mine are safe in my immortality and in the grave of the dead girl who was once so full of life.**_

_**Logical thinking tells me our child would have been great, powerful, a noble heir of the union of Slytherin and Ravenclaw. I shall never know now. I walk my path alone…forever, the way it has to be."**_

_-_

**Vauxhall, London**

**4th October 1943**

**-**

Gladys Panting was not a bad nor an unkind woman, if hardened by the requirements of her employment. She was pleased to have been offered the Matron's job at the Vauxhall Road Orphanage, when Esme Cole had left to marry the Warden. Though the hours were long, the pay was reasonable enough to keep her in food, clothing and just a little gin on a Friday night. In these troubled times, it worked out well enough.

-

On this particular icy morning in October, Mrs Panting was to be found in the kitchens of the Orphanage, talking in a low and confidential voice to the Cook over her third cup of tea that morning.

The girl had left the child on the front steps the night before, she told the older woman, as she lit up another black-market cigarette. Had looked little more than a child herself, come to that, but she'd knocked once and ran. Like they all did.

All Mrs Panting had seen, she said, had been a flash of long dark hair and some kind of dirty velvet coat slung around thin shoulders. This was all ,as the girl ran out of sight down the Vauxhall Road and then, suddenly, disappeared from view. It was quite as if she'd melted into thin air.

-

The previous night had been pitch black and bitterly cold, especially for early October. The wind had whipped around, swirling the litter on the grubby London pavements , and pulling at the edge of the blanket surrounding the hours old baby boy with the black hair and slate eyes.

It was, said Mrs Panting to the cook, a jolly good thing that that dreadful boy Mrs Cole had warned her about had packed up his scant possessions at the end of August, and gone back to his Scholarship school goodness knows where, leaving nothing but a letter on the old, greying coverlet, said that he would come of age in December, and there would be no need for him to come back.

Still, the battered old iron bedstead would be easily moved by a couple of the bigger boys, to make room for a dilapidated wooden crib used by generations of orphans and looking almost sad and neglected as were its infant occupants

And so the child of the girl in blue stayed in the first room on the second floor.

-

It was not long after the war ended that rich, well-to-do couple came up to the front steps of the orphanage and knocked on the door

The wealthy gentleman and his wife had lost their only son in one of the first air raids on London. He was to have been the only child the lady was able to bear, on account of her health.

They wished, said the gentleman to Mrs Panting, as he opened his well-stocked wallet, to offer a good, loving permanent home to an orphaned boy at their new residence in the countryside. They were instantly charmed by the large grey eyes and black hair of the handsome, laughing two year old that toddled into the room, clutching at the hand of one of the nurses.

"His name's David," said the nurse. "He's got no other. That we know of, at least."

Three weeks later, overjoyed, they took him home to Somerset for a happy, family Christmas.

As he grew older, he forgot all about the orphanage.

-

**Nine years later... **

**-**

Eleven year old David lived an ordinary life in an ordinary house.

Nothing strange or remarkable ever happened in the big house on the edge of the woods in Somerset, England. The young boy had lived a very happy life for the past nine years behind it's heavy, oak door, and today was set to be even happier, for today was his birthday.

The sound of raucous laughter and the pounding feet of a crowd of young boys, friends from David's village primary school, thundered through the orchard of the old house in the fading sunlight of early October. After the sun set, casting long shadows across the well-kept lawn, and the moon glanced off the sparkling glass of the large conservatory, David and his friends gathered indoors around the huge oak table as the pretty, laughing woman he had come to know as his mother carefully walked in, bearing an enormous home made chocolate cake, illuminated with eleven candles. The voices of his friends and family mingled in a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday'.

David pushed the black hair out of his eyes and smiled around at his friends as he took a great breath and extinguished the candles on his first try. The assembled company cheered, and David thought that in all his life, there had never been a happier day than this.

Outside the house, on silent, white wings, an owl flew through the forest, a letter sealed in wax and addressed in a curious, emerald green ink clutched tightly in its beak.

It regarded the house on the edge of the trees for a moment, and then circled once before passing it by... on its way to somewhere else.

-

**THE END **

**-**


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